I sit here in class, wasting the hour
With no ambition, drive, or power
To do a single damn thing but cut
Does that make me a hopeless nut?
If it does, then why try to fight
I just want to see the light
To rot in hell or in the ground
My peers won’t care I’m not around
So here I go, off to cut or hang
I leave this poem here for “the gang”