Who Needs Friends?Dear Loneliness,More Like This
Will you be my friend?
Because I seem to just be a trend,
That the world has put to bed.
Will you make me smile?
Because Happiness has run a mile,
Just like everything else I need.
Will you help me hope?
Because Optimism is a slippery slope,
When you've seen the world.
Will you make me care?
Because I hate Interest's flare,
In a place too dull for life.
Will you make me content?
Because you're the one that'll prevent,
That which I long for.
Will you make me feel alive?
Because I don't even want to survive,
In a world that cares too much.
Will you make me a saint?
Because I don't deserve a heavenly taint,
Due to the sinner that I have become.
Will you make me your sob-story?
Because you want all of the pride and glory,
Of surviving where your buddy fell.
Whats and IfsWhy cure the insane,More Like This
When they're having fun?
Why wish away the rain,
To get burnt by the sun?
Why force a smile,
When I know you're not fine?
Why walk a mile,
To tread on a mine?
Why have a dream,
When it won't come true?
Why work in a team,
To end up black and blue?
Why try happy,
When you're dying inside?
Why act yappy,
To drain all your pride?
Why be a saint,
When you want to sin?
Why act faint,
To melt away within?
Why keep on living,
When waking up's a curse?
Why stay in hell,
If you can leave in a hearse?
Insults"Get a life"More Like This
"Make some friends for once."
"Crazy, just like his hair over there."
"Do you EVER wear any colors?!"
"Why don't you use your own imagination."
"Get a haircut."
"Show me your wrists."
"Hey, the emo kid!"
"I bet he's goth."
"Are you always depressed?"
"Just get out of here."
"What would you know?"
"Even I'm smarter than you."
"Dude, you're a complete retard."
"I think all your little 'stories' are just lies."
"Do you ever even get out?"
"How could you not know that?"
Daily abuse, a pill of resistance, and you might be able to rise above it.
It had been foolish. A bright blond, almost platinum head of hair was resting on the pillow. The person the hair belonged to was all curled, clinging to the blankets as if someone might attempt to remove them. The layers of blankets and sheets were pulled up past his chin, covering much of his face. The room around was a disaster area, clothes and possessions everywhere. Though, the owner claimed that it was organized chaos. He knew where everything was, and nothing was allowed be moved. There were clear spots near the dresser, and around the desk. Where it was visible between clothing, bland gray carpet covered the floor and the walls of the room were white. It saved money. Everything in the room looked rather plain, depressingly lacking of color. What stood out was everything on the desk. Some sketchbooks and colored pencils lay in a neat stack, as if mocking their owner with their existence. Brushes and a few canvases, all empty, sat in another stack. Other various objects litterMore Like This