Higher gas
Bigger cars...

You asked me how I'm doing
But before I even spoke...

These days, I find myself here more often than not
I told you my reasons, then somehow you forgot...

You're so much better at this game than me
You're doing fine, I'm getting no sleep...

Pulling on strings they call it puppeteering
As I hang myself from a ten story building...

September, darkest now
For that you know you're certain...

I remember once when I was twelve
i said the world could go to hell...

It's not so scary
When it's all you know...

This page I promise is ripped
And this pencil is tasting like poison...

Hum poems out. I love you
I play with your fingertips...

Welcome to a world
Where hearts are made of glass...

Here in this red notebook
Darkened scrawl, depressing thoughts...