Sometimes I wish blood was bursting out of my freaking eyes--
like a broken steam-pipe.
Sometimes I'd die inside
Screaming mutely as I die.
In fact, sometimes I wish I wasn't ever born
To put up with crap--oh--I meant Life.
It is unlike that I kill myself
Although I have no reason to live
Sometimes I'm like an apple
Born out of ridiculously chaotic branches
Then harvested to someday
Sit and rot away