(Alternate title: Every poem written by the depressed goth kid in art class)
Death grips my paralyzed body,
Your stares shatter my soul like a sheet of glass,
I can taste your pain, it's sweeter than mine,
Oh, how I hate working after school at Krispy Kreme
I walk alone in a world of smoke, surrounded by paper dolls,
My blood is cold and my thoughts are damp, like rag soaked in agony's water,
The smell of burning flesh is my companion through the furnace of life,
Someone scrathed my Cure CD, and I need a ride to the mall
Your minds are cancerous with the thought of conformity,
Individuality scares you out of your clothes from Old Navy,
My razor blade knows my essence more than anyone else,
Can you tell me where Drama Club meets?
Crumbling like stone under the weight of your deception,
Flying through the flames of hell, like a dragon of light,
Tasting the freedom of death through the chains of your love,
Can you feel my misery rising in my eyes?,
Can I borrow some black eyeliner, I'm all out!
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