I hate living.
I wish I was dead.
I hate all of these people,
Who act as though they care.
But no one really does.
They only act as though they care,
When you're so far gone,
That nothing can bring you back to happiness.
People find all that they can.
Decide what happens to you
And who knows what.
Well I can control something,
My death.
Lets see them try to take that for themselves.
They take my darkest secrets,
Share them with the world,
Like they are their own.
But there is one thing they'll never get,
and that is my choice to live.
