A barren room with white walls,
I sit in the corner and no one hears your calls.
An hour seems a day, forever and beyond,
I am alone, without passion and fond.
Bury my blame beneath my decency,
For a needed lost soul, there is no vacancy.
Another elapsed poem, about ancient pain,
But this anguish feels like a hemorrhage in the brain.
I could slit my wrists, I could cry,
It doesnt matter, its all a lie.
Im just not meant to make it in this earth,
Hurting so many people, I should have died during birth.
I have no shoulder to weep upon, I have no one,
I have nowhere to go, nowhere to run.
But I do have my nightmares, my throbbing, and knife,
Ill be another statistic, and I will end my life.
