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Poems Here we are again
back in Hell.
When will we get out?
Only time will tell.
I need to get out of here.
I can't stand this shit.
Fuck my life,
and everyone in it.
At times,
it seems like I'm not even there.
If I die,
will anyone care?
Should I continue,
or call it quits right here?
Maybe I should wait a few days,
a few months, or a year.
Days I could do it?
My birthday perhaps?
The day I was born,
and the day that I pass.
Maybe New Year's Eve,
and New Year's Day.
When the year changes,
I go away.
Perhaps Easter,
with Good Friday skies.
Except unlike Jesus,
I do not rise.
It could be any day,
any time, any place.
Could be any moment,
when I put my life to waste.
