Playing the game

For a long time this poem was the only way I could make it through the day, however I wrote this three years ago.

Why does the world feel like never ending night?

When will there be hope? When will there be a light?

Why is the world cast in eternal darkness?

When will I sort out my life which is a total mess?

 

All my love for you is gone

Now I'm wondering, is it something I did wrong?

Why do I feel like my life was a mistake?

Why all those innocent people when it's my life you should take?

 

Why would you make me say these things?

I'm trying to fly but I don't have my wings

I feel like life is a supid game

If I died would the game remain the same?

 

If I knew everyone would be alright

I'd end it today, I'd do it tonight

But how could I leave my friends behind?

But how can I keep torturing my mind?

 

I feel like I'll never win in life

Which brings me to, yet again, the knife

I've been here so many times

Working my feelings into rhymes.

 

The thoughts go round and round in my head

When I'm sitting here or lying awake in my bed

If I go I know for someone life won't be the same

So I guess, for now, I'll keep playing the game.