My thoughts are dark and every time I try to make them known maybe get a little attention so someone can fix my messed head, everyone assumes its art. Wanted to kill before but that flame is gone these days. I only feel like taking myself out in style. Body full of bullets type of shit. I mean I feel lonely in a room full of people and the one girl that kept me sane and happy kinda told me she didn’t like me no more. My psycho self comes back. I feel pain a bit differently I see everything as a suicide object. Needles, knives, cars. I actually have this suicide thought of me crashing my car into a tree or a wall and then maybe blowing up. Or burning slow, way slow. Enjoy the pain because love I can’t understand. Death maybe the answer and some days I wish I can have a slow but very painful killing cancer. And most days I smile.