Does everyone hate me, or
do I imagine this too.
Just as I imagined any feelings
that may have come from you.
In my corner, alone with my
book.
I long to feel nothing, I long
to look.
To look forwared to tomorrow
or any other day.
To want to live at night, or to
know what to say.
I have an aching so deep, and a
secret so great.
That even I wish to be at
those miserable gates
The gates of heaven, or the
gates of hell.
For no longer do I care..
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Halloween is Right around the corner.. .
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