Given up.

Why should I care?
Why should I live?
Nothing I do is right
Nothing that I can give

I'm nothing but a nuisance
I'm nothing but a failure
I cannot be fixed
I cannot be tailored

What thoughts have I?
What feelings may be?
What words I say?
What pain I feel?
What can I do?
What can't I do wrong?
What use is living?

When the world is against me?
When the others have given up?
When I can't remember who I am?
When I can remember the pain?
When should I let go?

I'm lost and not found
With an aching heart
I'm mad, so mad
Yet sad all the same
At first I want to fight
But then I quit
What's the use anyways?
We're all destined to go
. . . . . .
Eventually.