Untitled Raw
What's keeping me sane?
What's not letting me blow out my brain.
What's not letting me set a fire to my world
because every night I lay in my bed curled.
I'm not tired. I just want to die.
I don't even have enough emotions to cry.
I just too apathetic.
I just don't care and if I had a gun to my head I wouldn't be because the world isn't fair.
Thinking about how the shot would spread it.
Thinking about the blood bath, I wouldn't even sweat it.
What's keeping me from doing it?
Why don't I just pull it?
Why am I so scared?
If there was a God wouldn't he care?
Why am I more afraid of hell then blowing my brains out?
I feel like a little b*tch who just complains and pouts.
I have everything in the world
Is this mental illness? I can't tell
Why am I even rhyming?
Emotions shouldn't have a rhyme scheme. It should be blunt not f*cking clean.
I just need a cigarette.
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