Dear Goth



The years of my life amount to nothing.

The wreckage of forty-one years,

Like a train wreck filling the void.

Isolation fills the seconds with pain.

They don’t care if I hurt.

They don’t care if I’m dead.

There are 86,400 seconds in a day,

I have known everyone of them.

They don’t care about me.

This life’s wreckage, piles of trials.

My heart broken. My life over. I see here,

I should have loved more. I should have loved

Better. I should have done better. Too bad.

My regrets like a dirty rag needs washed away.

There is no escape for me here. Look at what god

Has done to me. They don’t care if I’m dead.

I thought I would have value. I thought I would matter.

Seems that they want to destroy me. They don’t love me.

I can tell when they hate me. I can tell when they

Want me dead.

This is my terminal illness.