Everything Happens For A Reason...
Like The Weather Changing Season...
But See I Wonder Why Am I Breathing..
Wondering When Am I Leaving...
I'm Just A Waste Of Space..
I'm Just Failure With A Face...
On This Earth I Feel Out Of Place...
Six Feet Deep Is My Home..
Where I Live On My Own..
Where I Live All Alone..
Unless You Consider Dirt And Bugs Company..
But They Actually Love Me...
People Walking Above Me...
But No Im On This Dreadful Vacation..
With No Place In Sight No Destination..
So I Use My Imagination...
And I Imagine I Was Home In The Dirt...
A Place Where I Cant Feel Pain And I Wont Get Hurt..
But When I Was Born Failure Was Written On My Forehead..
At This Particular Moment I Never Wanted To Be More Dead..
So I Hope Death Comes Quick..
Staying On This Earth Is Making Me Sick..
I Wish My Date Of Death Is Something I Could Pick..
Cause I Wouldve Choose The 30th Of October...
I Just Want My Life To Be Over...
So I Can Just Be Left Alone..
And Stay In My Home..
I Know My Home Is A Small Box..
But I Rather Kick Rocks..
Then Breathe This Air...
I Just Want To Be There..
My Home Is Exactly 84 x 28 x 23..
But That Size Is Fine By Me..
Its Better Then Being Here..
I Just Hope Death Is Near...
Cause Nothing On Earth Is Clear..
Is Just A Bunch Of Haze..
And I Feel Like Im In A Maze...
So Till My Death Ill Count The Days..
And Count The Stars In The Night Skies...
Until My Body Finally Lies..
Inside That Box That Lays Six Feet Deep...
Where I Can Rest My Head And Finally Sleep..
Until Then I Will Just Use My Imagination..
With The Graveyard Being My Destination..
I Hope Im The Next Victim Of Death..
I Hope Next Time I Breathe Its My Last Breath..
So I Can Finally Be At Peace..
And Be Just Like This Poem Deceased...