Alone
Believing that I
Can beat the world.
Dreaming about arms that
Envelope my body,
Freeing me from
Grave despair.
Hoping that my
Idiotic sense of
Hatred towards myself becomes
Jaded.
Killing time has become
Life. I am now just
Mimicking what they expect of my
Name, for it's my
Outer shell that
People see.
Quiet now, and the
Real me might appear.
Shout to the heavens,
They might respond.
Understand that life is
Venomous, yet
Wonderful.
Xanax may do the trick.
Yet without, can I achieve the
Zenith?
