Life

Life is tiring.
Would love to have a firing squad line up to take aim,
No regret showing in my mind as I hope to get rid of my negative fame.
My flame quivers,
The warm touch of blood on my skin making my body shiver.
My dream is of me dying,
So I no longer look forward to staying up late at night crying,
Because I will never be someone.
I'm the person society always calls,"the dumb one".
I'm tired of life.
My soul is cold so I have no choice but to dive into the flames of hell,
Cringing under the excruciating sound of a church bell.
My mind travels alone,
Crawling it's way through a maze of thoughts,
Facing monsters that many fought without returning to the same calm seas of peace,
If I could, I would put my mind on lease and sell it,
In order to get away from the thoughts I have without having to throw an angry fit.
My hands are guns from which deadly thoughts become actions,
Drawing blood from my broken scars fraction by fraction.
My life is a poison,
A fatal mixture of poise and darkness,
There is light but it seems to be a glitch in reality.
My skies are never cloudless,
Even though I have found my lovely princess.