The Ugly Truth?

I used to write poetry,

Just to get you to notice me.

To get you to understand the pain I feel inside of me,

But, you don't see it. No one does.

Not until you're mourning the loss of someone you loved...

And I ain't even dead yet.

But it's destroying me,

It's taking my life away,

Why are you toying with me?

Was I born to be some depressed little fuck,

Who can't do shit in life because everywhere she goes, she's stuck?

Or was I born to be the greatest and succeed,

Becoming the next top model gracing your runways and tvs?

I don't know, man, I honestly don't.

I don't like to stay sober, so I clear my conscience when I smoke.

That's when I feel lifted, a little gifted,

My life is severely shifted, but things are starting to fit in...

I guess.

I just wish I could fix the problem,

People with degrees think they know how to solve 'em,

But they don't know shit, because I'm unsure of it unless I can down this whole bottle.

But... I'm not even a drinker.

I gotta remind myself to smile with this string on my finger,

That shit don't work. Does anything really fulfill?

I'd rather be depressed than have to pop these pills,

That shit kills.

It makes you feel worse at first, which don't make sense,

Why push me to the edge when I never climbed the fence?

Are you dense? What is your degree for?

Is all of this really gonna benefit me, or...

Is it designed to weaken a mind that's already too weak to continue?

I don't know, and I probably never will,

Shit like this is the shit that'll get you killed,

For real...

This poem is about: 
Our world


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