Hating Myself Is The Crime
I'm at the end.
There isn't much more I can take.
Everything is only getting worse.
I really need a break.
Day in and day out,
Nothing is what I do.
My life is so confusing.
Why do I feel like I do?
I'm by myself,
Dreading each and every day,
With nobody to talk to,
Just hoping things will be okay.
I've created some sore of prison,
Where hating myself is the crime.
Someday maybe things will change?
I guess I will know in time.
Nobody understand me,
Or knows what I'm going through.
Keeping a smile on my face,
Acting happy with what I say and do,
But really inside I'm hurting,
Suffering with deep pain and regret,
Having fear of everything.
Hopefully someday I will forget.
I need to end this way I live,
Some day, some way, some how.
I wish someone could help me,
Which I'm unable to allow.
Nothing I do has meaning,
Or even worth talking about.
My life is just a waste,
Everything is done with doubt.
I have no conclusions,
On what else there is to do.
I find the negative of everything,
And I always think the worst too.
Well, I guess there is no sake of trying,
There doesn't seem to be an end.
I'm going to have to tolerate,
What's difficult and unable to mend.