Every breath I exhale
Every time I close my eyes
I'm met with the conclusion
That I'm done with life.

It's hard to see sometimes
Through my blurry vision
Obscured by depression
Hidden by the nightime

I doubt the world is kind
Because the life I call mine
Is cruel

Certainty
That I'm already gone
Blatantly
There's a feeling I must act on

Death is the end
Of something not well spent.

Goodbye.