Some times I dwell-
Not because I want to-
But because I'm forced to!
Thinking things,
Oh well-
Oh BLOODY Hell-

Sometimes I believe I'm dying-
Not always because of grief-
Mainly out of
Disgust,
Hatred,
of my self.
The things that pull me down,
Like the water falling from the sky.

Sometimes I'm a mess.
When I say sometimes,
It's more like all times!
Nothing I own makes me whole!

I'm still a fucking piece!
A broken piece!
A lonely piece!
A empty piece!
A piece that can't be whole...

A piece who can't breathe,
without a complaint towards them....
A piece who has more cuts than smiles...
A piece who is blinded by their past...
A broken piece-
Is a useless piece...

(Date made: 4-28-20)