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A noose around my neck,

A rope around my hands,

A weight around my feet,

A gun in my hands.



Pain of a lie,

Pain of an act,

The pain of my life.



A society of expectations,

And teachings of hate.

We're not the same,

We all go to hell,

Because we're not like you.



Pain of my lies,

Pain of my ways,

Pain of my life.



People wouldn't know,

And I don't know if I want them too.

But if it takes the weight of my back,

Would it be any better?



Can I trust them?

Or are they as twofaced as me?

And use it against me if they must.



Pain of the truth,

And the hurt it would bring.

The hurt to each of you,

And the burden you would carry,

While mine is lifted.



Am I selfish?

Or am I stupid?

Just an asshole?

Or am I your dream?



Would you tell me?

Would you tell them?

How would I know?

Should I even care?



A jumble of thoughts,

And cryptic questions.

Hidden clues,

And a mysterious way.



The strange man in the corner.

Laughing for the moment,

And crying the next.



A dark quiet kid,

With a big mouth,

And bad attitude.

He told me it would get me fucked over in the end...

Maybe he was right...



Would you listen if I tried to tell you?

Or dismiss it as a phase...?

Should I take the risk?

Jump over the edge,

Or retreat into the darkness I have remained in.



Excuses?

Is that me?

An excuse of a man?

Or better then all of you?



Pain of my lies.

Pain of my life.

Pain of your hate,

Pain of the burden I would carry to you.



Should I?

Leave behind my lies,

Fuck those who don't understand,

Fuck those who don’t care?

And see what real friends I have?

The two I can count on?

Can I add anymore?

Or are they all as shallow as I think they are?



It’s a road I’ve been down...

And it’s a road I have lived on.

And its one I don't feel like going down anymore...

Should I tell?

Should I run?

Should I get rid of my pain?

Or will this bring me more?



The pain in my head,

The pain in my heart.

The pain in my soul.

Do I run from it?

Or face it head on.



Simple really.

Isn't it?

Run away and never have to deal with it.

Just pretend to be something I’m not.

It’s worked so well,

And yet it has caught up with me.

And punched me in the gut,

Knocked the wind outta me,

As I lie on the ground.

Spread over the tracks,

Waiting for the train to take me out of my misery.



So much other stuff to worry about,

The bombs blasting in the distance.

The lack of energy for our cars.

Who gives a fuck about a damn teenager,

And all his personal problems.

Why should I be so fucking important...?

I'm not.

Only to myself,

No one else really gives a fuck.

And it’s obvious,

And it’s understandable.

And while I do understand.

I don't get it.



Too much going on.

Too much to understand.

Too much to deal with.

Just end it now,

And have no more worries.



The noose around my neck gets tighter.

And my hands lost all their feeling.

The weight around my feet is heavier.

And the gun is pointing at my face.



Sinking through the water.

As shots ring out above.

I know what I want,

And I know how I want it to be.

Am I the idiot?

The only one who thinks people would understand.

The only one who believes people still have compassion.

Can still care?

Am I the only one?



My confused thoughts,

And my cryptic answers,

And indirect questions.

Does it tell you something?



Does it mean anything at all?

Anything?

About me..?

The idiot.

The asshole.

The fuckup.

The great.

The dream.



Me.

Plain old,

Painful,

Me.