Sometimes,

I hate life so much,

I get the urge to take myself out of here;

right on the spot.

I wanna run away and jump to my fate:

"Go ahead and do it while you still have the feeling!" I tell myself.

Once I lose the feeling,

all I'm left with is the frustration.

I become mad at myself,

because I didn't do it sooner.

It seems as if death is easier

than dealing with the arrogance of other people.