i sit stareing at the ceiling
laying in my bed
with my plain white sheets
in my plain white room
wondering why i’m here in the first place
i dont belong with all these people
i’m fine
sure i cut my wrist
sure i tried to end my life
but that dosent mean i’m crazy
or dose it
i dont know anymore
i just want it all to stop
so as i sit and stare
i cry myself to sleep
and wonder what your thinking of me
but its all good
i’ll just go back to my meaning less life
where no one cares
backing into the hole of depression
i was liveing in because i couldnt handle it