I don’t understand what you’re expecting of me,
your needs a bottomless pit.
Just because you don’t understand these feelings,
doesn’t make me a misfit.
I don’t wish you to understand,
this mind, it’s my own personal hell.
I’m scribbling down my note written in my own twisted fate,
hoping no one remembers to tell.
The rope, hung ever so delicately,
my last and final hope.
The knocking on my door loudens,
as my body begins to mope.