Too Many Eccentricly Boring Poems, But Lovely Nonetheless

Why Am I Even Thinking About This.

I do not know who is true or not,

Or who will make it through or have me shot,

Could I take my life in euphoria and rot,

Should I shake mentally to the thought,

Would I make silently my resolve,

I fall ,throwing up leaves, this fall,

What the point of life if I hate myself,

Shut my mind to appoint my strife as worth and wealth,

Start a round, ignoring the signs, and selling myself for what sells,

Stuck on those who disjoint my pride and leave me a shell,

Me on a cross, nails and my loins and forgivness hardfelt.