Sometimes I ask myself...

Sometimes I ask myself,

What did you do to deserve this life in Hell?

Sometimes I ask myself,

Why do you do the things that I do?

Can't you just be normal?

Or is that too much to ask?

And then myself fights back.

I'm sorry that I'm broken.

I'm sorry that I'm torn.

I'm sorry I'm not perfect.

Maybe I should've never been born?

Would you be satisfied then?

If I was never alive, would it reduce your stress x10?

Sometimes I ask myself,

Who are you?

And myself replies,

I don't know, that person's gone too.