Two Paths

When I was little my mother told me about two trails.
One, a good path I would take if in life I did well,
The other would take me straight to hell.
When I was younger the choice was clear, but now what do I choose?
I can tell you right now I don't want to be a goody-two-shoes.
But I don't want to convert all my life to drugs, sex, and booze.

Nowadays I don't give a shit, what's the point in it all.
How many times can I get back up when I fall.
And for good measure, kick me while I'm down.
And drown me in my pain when no one else is around.

You all want to know what I've become?
A whore. A lair. A bitch. And then some.
I can't see much more than that.
Sad? Maybe. But it's just a fact.

I just want everything to stop.
I don't want to wait for the rest of my life to drop.
I'm just done.
Done with everything, I give up, this hell won.

If I could I'd go to sleep and never wake up.
Let my heart stop beating, fade into my cuts.
Let them bury me six feet underground.
Let what's left of me decompose into a freshly dug dirt mound.