Every Day

by John123   Jul 8, 2004


Grass on the ground.
Sun in the sky.
I travel my life wondering why.
I breath in the air, and let out a sigh
still wondering, wondering, wondering why.
I look around.
No life to be found.
It's my life to which I am bound.
I have no excitment and barely my health
I'm only living to die; I'm killing myself.

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