(NOTE: I am NOT emo!!! I'm occasionally gonna so these thoughts of an insane person and other crap like that. So yeah. Just wanted to tell you that.)
Thoughts of an emo:
I think I'm worthless, I think I'm not needed,
Unloved.
Unneeded.
Everyone worries, but it's fake. Their worry is clearly just for the people they love, who could be hurt by me.
They're lucky they have those people.
I love no-one, for no-one loves me.
My mother is busy, my father at work.
I stay up late, slitting my wrists.
My mother shrieks at the blood stains on her carpet, wondering how they got there.
I tell her nothing.
She might send me to rehab. But I am fine. I'll kill myself sooner or later anyways.
So what's the use of improving an insignificant life?
For the life has not much longer to live, and it has no use in the big scheme of things.
The life will soon turn to death, spinning in the deepest circle of hell.
The world hates me, and it will forever.
Unless…
Unless I die, they will feel sympathy and compassion.
When I die, they will give me flowers and do everything they can for me.
Unlike in life.
They did nothing for me.
But they will.