Not a poem but sure is sad

Dreams of death are my relief. In my dream I see myself making so many wrong decisions but I can do nothing to stop my stupidity my anger is aroused for all the mistakes in my heart. I watch death and darkness creep on me and I welcome it. Why do I do such things? Blood is my desire. Pain takes over my mind. Alone in the world surrounded by so many people are forged to seem as though they are true, but we know the truth...or is it just me that sees what I see? Is my mind playing tricks on me? Am I so wrong to believe what I believe? Is it wrong to wish for change but tremble, and as change comes before me heaviness covers my mind suddenly my vision goes black. I am not what people expect disappointment exists in their heart as they see me live my life. Rage tries to surface in my soul but it is not against them it's against me. I sway back and forth to and fro music from my black heart is alive in my corpse how death is alive? Beauty has become a flaw in my distorted mind as my heart is slowly ripped to pieces in front of me. Why must they do that why must they hide all the pieces I don't have it in me to look for them. I am stuck in the same situation that I was in before only because I refuse to move or to change. I have taken a hold onto my past and have clung to it ever since. Why, I will never understand. If our past is so painful then why do we cling to it? If something burns our flesh and hurts our souls why must we stay there or why must we always return? I know what I must do I must cling to the future then I will hold onto myself and depend on no one and slowly pick up the pieces of my broken life, buy glue and attach it together and learn this is life I don't even know how, but I will.