When I open my eyes
I feel the same darkness I see when they’re closed
Surrounded by a world of people who don’t understand
People who judge without thinking,
People who hate for no reason

When I look in the mirror I no longer see the joyful facade
I see the lost and unsure real me

I want to run away inside of myself
Hide in my imagination and never come out
I’m not the problem, reality is the problem
People are the problem
I am the problem.

My sick thoughts,
My unbelievably contorted views,
That’s the problem.

But the world, it’s their fault, they made me this way
Didn’t they?

Or is this really who I am?
Is this the person I was born to be?
If it is, why was I even born?

Maybe I should end it here then.
The end