by heather May 14, 2004
category :
Sadness, depression /
about depression
Every night before I go to bed I dream and pray to god that i will get friends and that there is someone out there who wants and needs me as much as I need them. But yet it never comes true. You sit in the background and call me all these rude names. And i tried everything. I tried being nice and showing that i cared and that i liked you and you just didn't like me. And while I sit crying in a corner you laugh and go on with your day. does it make you feel good inside to see me cry. Cause i am sick of it. Why cant you just get out of your world and like me and stop calling me names. Don't you get it I hate this i hate my life Ia m sick of being last and i am sick of you. |
by Tourniquet
I feel your poems threw out my soul. It hit me deeply. |