my breaking point lays in pieces
on the ground below
so lonely, so cold
and im feeling as low as ever before
"done, die, dont" play in my head
and everything ive said
wont be remembered
my body might as well be dismembered
because im already unidentifiable
i have no friends nor family
this worlds unreliable
my eyes are dried up
uncryable
all these faces blocking my sight
suicide, just might
maybe so
is that really the way to go
i mean hopes always there
unless you've past the point where you dont care
not about your stuff or how rough it gets
your just there for the ride
but inside your like a hollowed out tree
you can put more within
but you never choose to