The agony of something so desolate and unforgiving
there is no life worth living.
God help me as I walk alone
trying in vain to know a home.
And for all my useless trying,
I often prefer the idea of dying.
Why does this demon follow me
when all I want is to be free?
Are not my thoughts so simple in being?
They are, for all their laughter, seeing
a clown, a jester who's come to the brink
in my escapades when my heart sinks.
Hiding from the reality of now,
to mend this mess, I don't know how.
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