What is the point of living, breathing, feeling, loving?
Absolutely nothing.
I'm tired of never being admired,
I'm tired of being tired.
As I stand here the gun in my hand,
I know the end is near.
But I don't shed a tear,
I'm worthless anyway;
It's not like someone would miss me everyday.
I'm nothing
Dumb, b*****, ugly
the list goes on.
But in a few minutes I'll be far gone
I pull the trigger, and I feel numb as I fall to the floor.
My life will be no more.
And when I hear the faint sound of the front door opening,
I smile weakly in victory.
All those times I told him I wanted to die, and all he said was try.
Now he'll see,
he was wrong about me.
I hear his agonized cry as my vision goes blurry,
and I know I'll never see him again.
My end has come,
I knew it was near
as an angel whispered in my ear.