As I Slam Arthritic Hands Into A Broken Keyboard, Nobody Can Hear Me Screaming

In a rather egotistical and pathetic attempt to immortalize myself, in something I lost, everything. And now that I’ve burned all of my bridges and I’m drowning, the only thing I have left to do is work. And it's not working. And the only ones praising my work are little kids, the same age I was when I broke everything. Lucky me. I watch them do the same foolish things, reaching for pointless dreams, immortalizing themselves for no one and nothing. What I wouldn’t do to have something, and what I wouldn’t give for something worth saying. Empty words look prettier when they’re written in blood. And trust me, it’s dripping straight out of my pen tip and into my lungs. I wish that instead of pneumonia I had amnesia. Maybe then, I could forget about all of this.