Hate, anger, frustration,
How does one survive?
Confusion, distraught, depression.
Why even be alive?
Screaming, running, sobbing,
Everyone is swarming.
Yelling, crying, dying.
Does someone really care?
I sit alone now, all by
Myself with no one else.
They've all left again for good,
And I am once again alone.
I only have friends when
They need a place to hide.
Does that make them love me?
"My basement's always open. . ."
I sit alone again and cry,
For the friends I wish I had,
But will never see.
All I get are words, in threes.
They speak to me softly,
Worry in their faces.
Do they care? Or is
Their worry worthless?
It hurts at the end,
As we all know, b
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