Why am I here.
I look over over to my peers and their screaming in other people's ears.
My life is a lie.
Why am I alive?
Sometimes I just wanna curl in a ball and just cry.
I wanna go to space
And float off and shit
And I ain't coming back and my gravestone is probably gonna be a diss.
This poem is shit.
Why am I writing this?
'Cause I like it and it's lit.
YOU ARE READING
Random book of random
Randomtbh I'm using a overdone clichè to get views. It's just a book 'bout a weird writer who draws and never updates their dang stories.
