I've always wanted to die young
That way I'd never have to deal with the hassles of college and such
But here I am still being flung
Being flung into the horrors of life, too much
That's one of the only ambitions I've ever had
Strange, I know
If I was gone no one would be sad
Why would they be though
It's not like I've done anything good with my life
I'm just kinda useless
Nothing to be remembered for in life
Just absolutely foolish
I've had this idea as long as I can remember
Truly, I'm not making this up to be dramatic
My mind seems to be as cold as December
Full with cobwebs like an attic
YOU ARE READING
Introspection
Poetrynoun in.tro.spec.tion \ˌin-trə-ˈspek-shən\ : the process of examining your own thoughts or feelings I'm just gonna dump thoughts here. Probably sad. Maybe not.
