don’t read if you don’t want to…ya’ probably won’t.

I’m bad at being a person, I’m bad at being alive. I’m bad at being worth it, heck, I can’t even survive.

I’m good at being a fuck up, i’m good at being sad, i’m good at having no luck, i’m good at being bad.

there are voices, and they yell, all the choices, and stroies they tell. there are demons, In my soul, and they eat me, they eat me whole. there are tears, streaming down, filling an ocean, i hope I drown. There is blood, spilling out, I really pray that, I’m not found.

I’m bad at giving love, I’m bad at giving hope, i’m bad at being enough, I’m bad at tying rope.

I’m good at being dead, i’m good at being gone,
six feet underground, is where I belong.

there are scars, on my wrist, oh the choices, and the stories they tell, and if anyone one asks, it was the cat or I just fell. there are bandages on my heart, the heart the world tore apart. there is blood spilling out, I really pray, that I’m not found.