My knees are so weak
Yet running
Running
For what?
Does it worth all that?
Why should I spent my years
Working
Learning
Searching for means to live
If I know
Inside me
I won't enjoy living it
Running, running...
For what I'm searching?
For cure?
I enjoy being sick!
For happiness?
It will never exist
For the reason that I'm still here?
I cannot find it out yet
What am I doing?
Why am still running
It's the time, to be selfish
To think of my own
Way
To live!
I'm still here?
Why should I care again for this life?
So many chances I gave
But it just won't get better...
Why am I still asking for help?
Why am still seeking it from this mortal world?
It won't give me the answer,
It won't give me a a damn
Why am I still trying to come back upon my feet?
For that I'm sick to seek
Why should I go on with  it
When I know that it is just a half empty pot of blood?
If it won't hurt you
It will just break upon the floor
Why should I even keep on repeating
The same everyday?
I'm sick of u!
you call ur self life? ?
You are just one big lie
This perfect solution...
The words upon my body..
I engrave, razor and pain
A perfect poem to write...
words,
are bleeding
till the last word
the last dropp of blood, falls
it will hit the floor
to draw the last line of this image
that is showing  the opposite of what u see
the choice that was hidden for many years
I'll  remove it to the surface
for others to see it, to realize
happiness is by..
Living our own death everyday,