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| Written in 1998. |
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Self-esteem, the floor. Wear me down, wear me out. Use me, abuse me more. Losing some hope that dwells in me, More I can't discover. I will not quit just yet. Yes, I'll always love her. I give all or let it be taken, Whichever it may be. No one cares about these things. No, they just don't see. Death is the gift I received at the end Of this thing I refer to as hell. Good thing, bad thing, anything. There's just no way to tell. Everything dies, and everything sucks. I can't find a good thing among them. All the nice things are put out of reach. Things in my life are just grim. I try all day to find a reason For this existence of mine. I'm baffled again, I wonder when I'll think things are just fine. Probably never, I'm too stubborn to Be satisfied that way. I will be sad all of my life, That's what I'd have to say. There is one thing I can imagine That would change my mood. A chance with her, yes, just one Would change my attitude. My days would be much brighter. My life would have a use. I would remove my head From this ever-tightening noose. |
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