Angst and I'm full of it.

Why am I never happy with what I have?

Why am I constantly chasing dreams that can't exist?

My heart's always twisted.

My lungs are always tight.

Looking at a pretty blue sky

Hurts my eyes.

Seeing happy couples makes me feel empty.

Meeting people my age who have actual lives

Makes me feel sad.

So much anguish and not enough lines

For all the text I'd like to spew.

But words in my head sound hollow on paper.

Words I tell someone I care about

Never seem worthy of the person I gift them to.

Maybe they're not gifts after all.

More like curses coming from a cursed person.

Why is it my fate to be the tortured artist?

For once can't someone else live that dream?

Angst and I'm fed up of it.

Done. I'm done.

Take it from me,

I didn't want it to begin with.