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I feel the things that just arent right,

I give in to things i need to fight.

I love the things i need to hate,

I sit around and wait for fate.

I learn to be as cold as steal,

when i'm aware i need to heal.

I learn to love and its far too late,

my mind is gone and I have my hate.

I hate and hate and hate some more,

and when i am door I'll hit the flloor.

All that i was will have all been shed,

like wasted tears left on your bed.

When i think i am done and just done care,

i know that you will still be there.

And thats the thing the stings the most,

cause your with him, and I'm with your ghost.

I write my epathy in blood,

upon my bed room wall.

I write and write and fill the room,

and then i fill the hall.

each drop a moment felt alone,

each smear some thin some wide.

all the same i use my blood,

its loss a place to hide.

i feel the dark encompass me,

the room begins to spin,

brought back to life i feel dispair,

and cant wait to try again.

sometime i have the feeling,

that i am just not well.

that instead of being happy,

i live my life in hell.

sometimes i have the feeling,

that i can feel too much.

that i just hate the people,

that my life seems to touch,

sometimes i have the feeling,

that emotions are like a thirst.

that my head is just a vessel,

that anytime may yet burst.

sometimes i feel the minutes,

that time has left me cold.

that in my rush to move along,

that i am far too old.

sometimes i feel i need you,

that i just need my friends.

then i rember who you are,

and learn to think again.

I feel my pain is growing,

stronger every day.

My pain is all around me,

pulling me almost every way.

I feel my mind is slipping,

pulling at those strings.

I cant seem to find my place,

to get a grip on things.

I cant just blame my parents,

I cant just blame my fate.

I;m just worries that its over,

my life solved much too late.

If hell is just below me,

and heaven just above.

then why cant i find my freedom,

or do i just spill my blood.