Disaster

The drugs,
the alcohol,
the given up hope.

the slums,
the resumes,
the living standards that we just cannot cope.

I'm a fake.
I'm a druggie.
I'm whatever you want.

A wanna-be.
A poser.
A disaster at the least.

So end this now,
just end my life,
and all it takes,
is a swipe of this knife.

I'm ready.
I'm willing.
It will do you all a favor.
It's only one more depressed teen that you'll be killing.

The blaring music,
The ongoing ballads,
The screaming hearts,
that wish to be mended.

Do you call this a happily ever after?
Call me your Cinderella.
We'll live life with poverty
and above all, love.

So this is my future,
laid out on paper,
possibly even plaster.

My life is perfect.
I'm just a disaster.