Unattractive, miserable,
drowning in grief.
Wallowing in sorrow
and lacking belief.

Longing to be happy,
God knows she tries.
But for some reason
All she can do is cry.

Avoidant, untalented,
No reason to live.
Putting herself aside
And trying her best to give.

Constantly bored
And dying inside.
With peculiar laughter,
Her sadness, she hides.

A small Pandora's Box
in the back of her brain.
Overflowing with thoughts
That cause nothing but pain.

A mind like a TV
With the remote control
Constantly changing channels
*Neverendingly dull

So many friends...
But are they fake or real?
Just using? It can't be!
So really, what's the deal?

Not minding death.
It's a final release.
From this thing we call life,
An eternal peace.