I see the black,
don't worry it's hair dye.
I see your face
I worry that it lies.
I can't see the future,
I wonder why?
No I don't really wonder,
It's because I die.
I die to escape,
to escape this world.
I write to do both,
I think to the curb.
I need an appetite to grow and learn,
I need some love, it's never my turn.
In the end we are all just as bitter,
It's not remembering, or love, or glitter.
I wish it were my time to speak,
but until then I'm just suicidally weak.