At this point, I’m not here by choice,
In order to get better, I must reach out, seek help.
Man, I don’t fucking want to,
I don’t want to, the only reason I’m still here,
is because I don’t want to hurt any of you.
I’m not here for me, I’m here for you, but what about my hurt.
I’m not here to live and hope for a better future.
All this is old, inside is nothing but cold.
If I could slip away, believe me, I would.
I’ve been seeking out a way, to disappear.
But every way, on any giving day, requires outside help.
My life is mine and I want my death to be, I wouldn’t want to burden any of you.
I don’t want any of this anymore.
I’m done with writing, I want this,
But hey, you want me around and in your mind,
I have so much to give, and live for,
If that’s so, name my last song.
Don’t fucking tell me, I have so much more to give,
If you don’t actually have a clue, about who I am or what I do and what I’ve been through.
I don’t want anyone but you, isn’t that selfish.
I am giving up on life, I’m so childish.
I don’t want to fucking try, you still wont tell me why.
It isn’t nice, living life, constantly wanting to die.
I’ve crashed so hard, because you lifted me so high.
I don’t want to be rational, I’m not being responsible.
I am nothing, nothing but a bag of poems and a bottle of songs.
With all these fucked up feelings and this head of scars.
You made me feel, like something, now to you I’m nothing!
Are you bored yet? Are you done now, I’m done now.
You’ve left me a corpse, you became a ghost.
Dignity is for the living, I’m just a suicide without the action.
Am I pretty yet? We could have been anything, I don’t want to be anything.
I’ve gone past emotions, I’m just a ghost, no love, no will, becoming cold, becoming still.
If I die here would you die with me and just forget the hurt
Its like I’m at a party, its like I’m at a funeral.
Shows over and we done good, yeah we done good.
Then why do I feel so empty. Half way through the show,
I started to plan an exit, but I don’t want an accomplice.
I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just don’t want to be here!
The more I’m told I’m loved, the more fucked up I feel.
Like, don’t love me, you really shouldn’t, I’m only going to let you down.
I’m presented with opportunities, I melt down under my own expectations.
Why write a single word if you feel hollow, why bother, why try.
I had albums to write, I had a future, I feel like that all disappeared.
I don’t see a point, I’ve lost the only thing I ever wanted.
Stop looking for a sign of life, I’m dead behind these eyes.
Stop hoping for me, stop believing in me, just let me fucking die!
The next chance I get, I swear I’m gone, the next chance I get…
I’ve lost my love, I’m dead to her, her silence screams to me,
I reach out and feel consumed with my sad reality, we are dead.
I’m just a vessel of nothingness, I should be dead.
Why do people kill themselves?
Why when, they are loved, when they are wanted.
Why cant they stay, why don’t they fight.
Personally I want to die every day, this is not a gimmick.
I know people love me, I know I’m wanted, but I hurt.
You say, you will listen if I spoke, you tell me I’m not Alone.
But I am, you are not in my head, you don’t see me crying in my bed.
I simply don’t feel worth much, I take away more than I can give.
It doesn’t get better, I just cant be happy, I feel dead inside.
I took my life in may, well I didn’t, only because I couldn’t physically.
These are just poems right?
I’m just being me, and for that, I’m honestly sorry.
I fake my way through all of this, but the other day,
I asked my mam when she would let me die, I’m numb to this, I cant even cry!
You say talk, but how, but why? You say fight, I say let me die.
When I’m not me, everything feels easier.
I remove myself from the equation.
But somehow let out, the dark within.
Ed screams, Ed cries, reliving my fears,
Reliving the breaking point, the trigger.
I could have been a father, I could have been.
Have the decency to let Ed die, I live that line.
Fading into the background, just another lost soul.
Let down, used, abused, neglected, never protected.
The part I play, contrasts the part I play,
It all gets blurry, here I have family.
I come home and ask what’s going on.
I write a poem, compose a song.
No-one reads them, no-one is listening so I’m throwing it all against a wall!
I act like I am something, I act like this means something, I act like I’m alive!
How do you do it? Just turn it off, just discard me.
How did you do it, make it seem so real, make me feel so real.
By now all of this is old news to you, I’m dead to you, I’m dead to me.
I don’t even know if I’m going to pull through, I’m hanging by a thread… again
This time, there’ll be no warning, I wont be explicit in a poem.
I know what I want, I know I’m ready,
They want me to fight, but they are not me.
Man, I’m ready, so cold inside, fuck your feelings, I’m out.
Stop fighting this and help me do it, I’m done talking through it.
I’ll do this show, I’ll go to the wedding, I’ll catch Korn one last time,
But hold onto, the memories, keep the suits, take some pictures, I’ll catch you at my funeral.
Infact ditch the suits, come as you are, come as I loved you.
I know what I said but don’t Play R Kelly, Play Korn, I did my time!
Don’t get pissed, I hate that, it scared me, Enjoy the music, Share my poetry
I love you I’m sorry, don’t remember this me, remember the me I can no longer be!
I wake up, I think of her, I think of her,
I think and I think, then before I hope,
I mentally tie a noose and repeat the phrase “she doesn’t love you”
I cycle through the happy times, pour gasoline on the memories.
But she loved me, yes she loved me, now she doesn’t love me, no she doesn’t love me!
I’m on tinder now, swiping right like I know how.
Like I know how to move on, like the best part of me isn’t long gone.
She doesn’t love me, she doesn’t love me. Swipe right avoid the hole.
The hole where you seem to inhabit now,
She doesn’t love me, but she did love me, but not now, but she did?
I think I need to know why, to help me understand why,
I’m afraid I know why, I’m coming up with reasons why?
Possibly because I have way too much going on behind my eyes,
My compulsions, my obsessions, my stressing my depression, is that why?
She doesn’t love me, is that why, she wont tell me, is that why we couldn’t be?
Dad would start drinking to stop thinking,
I really know that now, I just want to stop thinking.
If I died, I would stop thinking, I want to die, I want to stop thinking.
None of this is right, none of this is nice,
but I don’t think right and my mind doesn’t trust nice.
Today is my birthday, it doesn’t feel like my birthday.
I have no plans, just want to get through the day.
I could have got my cousin down, but I’d still feel down,
Last time he came around, I feel like I cried most of that week.
Happy birthday to me, I wish I could have a nice day.
I’m not with it, I’m sorry, I’m not into this.
Living thing, moving on thing, looking forward thing.
I’m not trying to seem ungrateful, I’m just writing how I really feel.
Maybe put you off, maybe make you leave me, make you sick of me.
So next time, I get the urge, you won’t call and I won’t stall.
Happy birthday to me, no, no not so.
Time to record this, time to feel this,
The only thing I can do, cause I cant go.
Happy birthday to me, thank you for your time, I’m sorry for mine.
Tell me what its like, to want to live.
I’ll tell you what its like not to,
Tell me what its like to feel you have something to give.
I’ll tell you what its like not to, I’m empty, your full.
Please tell me what its like to really want to be you.
I don’t remember, the last time, I was even ok with me – I hate me!
You are used to these poems, I’m used to these feelings.
Almost like suicide is a writing partner, like it just is.
Does it matter if I feel it? I cant exactly achieve it.
This isn’t a plan, that’s the worst part.
Planning makes me feel comfort, a definitive direction.
I don’t care how you feel, man I have to live with this.
Don’t force me to live with this. I don’t deserve your love.
Take me seriously, give up on me, give up like me.
Don’t talk me down, don’t talk me around, I’m not coming down.
Hollow effort, is the feeling, when you have nothing to give.
Dying with out death, is what its like, not wanting to live.