These days, this time, I feel nothing.
I've cried inside, I'm numb to everything.
I wake up feeling no enthusiasm,
I go to sleep wishing I would not wake up.
There is no cure for my disease,
not drinking, smoking, or singing a sad song.
The problem is life.
I've grown tired of trying to fight something unfair,
The world is how it is, and I am the problem.
It cannot be changed, and I will not conform to it.
I refuse to wear a smile and live each waking hour,
when every second I die a little more inside.
I am starting to feel cold,
I don't think I'd need to kill myself even if I wanted to;
I might not see the next sunrise.
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