The Question Is Why
Why do I fall, when knowone will pick me up?
Why should I love if it is not to be returned?
Why do I care when no one eles does?
Am I stupid or broken?
Do I like the pain,
The hollowness in my chest?
All that's left is broken pieces and emptiness.
I am numb and each time I feel less.
Why would anyone want me?
A sad, pathetic, freak like me.
Just a waste of space, a waste of air.
Why would someone help me?
Tired of it all,
When I feel down I fall,
I rest in the empty void that is me.
A black soul sleeps there.
So, the question is why?
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