I like to think I'm a good writer but I don't know for sure
All the words that I write well they're all just a blur
I never understand all the stuff that I say
Any words that I speak well they sound like decay
No matter how hard I try to say what I want
It all comes out wrong, weird, stupid, a taunt
It never makes sense the way that I feel
My whole world feels bland, everything so unreal
Why am I like this? I do not even know
I wish from all this that something good would grow
I try to force people to help them understand
I try to force them because I want them to take my hand
I'm broken and I'm pretty sure that most know
It's just frustratingly hard for me that they don't show
I wish that someone will tell me a reason to live
I wish someone would show how, tell me, or give
I don't think much longer, I can keep this all up
I've kept myself bottled like I'm poured in a cup
It has been going on to long, if I try to leave I won't stop
I'll keep on stabing from bottom to top
And I'll go about it each and every day
Until nothing is left and I've gone away
For this I'm sorry that everything took a turn for the worst
I guess it's true when I say that my words are all curst
But I won't take back any of the things that I said
Because truth be told I both want and don't want to be dead
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem