Deteriorating standard of life of a girl who cannot shake herself out of sadness
I sit here, tears streaking ever so furiously down my cheeks
And I wonder to myself,
When can it end?
People deter my comments and claim me fake,
But my bitterness is out of love for life,
Not lust for hate.
I cry in front of everyone,
I've made a fool of myself again,
But I was always a fool and some things never change.
I yearn to be held, hugged, kissed and loved,
Instead I am pushed away, smacked, kicked and hated.
I want this to change.
Death is a release,
My final goal,
But how long before I obtain this horrid goal?