The cold














Lose hope; give up,
I tell myself.
I’m nothing anyways;
why dream?
Why can’t I realize by now
that nobody cares?

No one will notice

if I’m gone

so why make the effort
to live.


I can’t run.


This lives in me;


fills my heart


with depression and fear.


No one will truly love me.




I am alone.

Forever.




















I love myself.

















Who needs any other


affection

when the strongest love

is from your own heart?

People that need
love
are deathly ill.
I simply have a cold.