Loneliness is a common illness.
Yet I reside in it selfishly,
The White walls are all Black,
My mind fades oft to the back.

You made the attempt,
And I made the refuse,
Self-destruction my only attribute.
Pain my only friend.

I see death and hear it too,
It calls out to me in the form of the blues.
I am reaping what I have sown,
Soon, my soul will embark on its final toll.

Love is absent,
Cold is present,
I wish I could feel,
But feelings are for childlike yesterday’s.

I was a happy boy once,
But age is just a number,
At 16 I am older than most,
My face a grave testament, to the graves of friends sentiment.

I am sick with an illness,
One for me not to be cured.
I wish I believed in fate,
It would be much easier then.

Yet there is no one to blame,
Or hide behind,
Only my shadow to reside beside,
Only your memory to taunt my mind.

I have made many mistakes,
And will make many more,
One day in fact I think I’ll be poor,
But the greatest by far,
Was to leave you barred,
To leave you stranded in the backseat of that car.

The wind is calling me now,
It talks to me somehow,
Sayin’ “You won’t be much longer now, won’t be left alone to frown.”
I answer, “Come back when I am dead,”
It echoes, “Won’t be much longer now.”

The tears are empty,
So is the pitcher.
How can I be with ya?
Never, never, never.

I have trouble sleeping,
Harder still to make sense,
Because my dreams are haunting
To this day the leave men incensed.

I am going crazy,
Slowly but surely.
Soon you’ll see me on your door.
Wanting to get our favorite smores.

Silence, now, silent void.
The wind is no longer whispering.
The walls no longer menacing.
Only me, without.
My mind not even speaking,
Not daring to break what is happening.

The windows open without noise,
Outside I can see my future,
Lit in a light other than the moon.
What I see… makes me hope I die soon.