Wow, this life sucks,
I can’t believe I have made it to twenty,
And now it is nearly twenty-one,
And yet each and every day,
I think why am I still here,
And each day I grab the razor,
Call myself a pansy because I won’t do it,
Then my phone rings,
It’s always an old friend asking how I’ve been,
Makes me think,
Makes me wander,
Is there something greater,
Something more for me,
In this monstrosity of hell we call life,
I guess it is true,
We all have a purpose,
And yet I still believe my purpose,
Is to die young,
Before I turn twenty-five,
And now it is nearing ever so quickly,
I am scared now,
I am scared I might actually live long enough,
Long enough to not figure out what to do with my life.

 
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