To most I look like another human living another day. You all will see soulless eyes and a broken smile. To most I am just a stranger who you won't care to know her problems. I'm alive, yes. But do I want to be? Honestly, no. I would rather have my blood spilled, My body motionless, and my heart stilled. Watch it all just disappear and make it so I don't exist. I'm another face with no will to try. Another thought of wanting to end it all. Will there be roses and lilies on my coffin? Or will I just be another box to fill a hole? I have no want to continue on. And yet I'm still here. Maybe it's because I lack the desire to do anything. Not even a desire to pick up a black or down the pills. I'm just another waste of space but don't care enough to let someone else have it. I'm tired. Tired of having to try. Tired of having to live. I'm tired of it all. But I'm still here. Maybe I'm secretly waiting to see what happens next. Does it get better or will I finally slit my wrists and down the pill? Let's wait and see
