To think of life as a fucking burden to everyone,
We don't know what we've got until it's gone.
We scratch our caskets to reach up to the surface,
Not knowing that once you're dead you're worthless.
Tremble at the sight of seeing your corpse.
The dead won't get any sleep with all the noise.
It's so sad to see what's dead wanting to be alive,
But when it's said and done, we realize that we've wasted our whole lives.
We open up our eyes and find the darkness.
It doesn't take long to notice that we're lifeless.
Is it the end of everything?
Raise your hands to the living hell and scream.
YOU ARE READING
Maybe This Is Me
PoetryMy brains, my blood, my heart, my friends. It's all I've got. *note* I have something like this already called "Consider Me Dead", But I wanted to start over... take out some things/add things. So, jst to let you guys know.
