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.