Miserable is what I am, so full of anger and hate,
Life hasn't been good to me, but I haven't been good to it either, No wonder I'm in this state.
The hate that consumes me comes from somewhere deep within,
Anger that I hold so dear stems from something very near.
Some days it's hard to tell the difference between reality and fantasy,
Some days reality is just fading while fantasy is invading.
My mind and my heart, oh, how I hate them both!
Oh, how I despise it all when they say, "let it go."
But what if this hatred is all I've to hold me here?
What if letting go means taking my last breath?
And when I'm finally at the doorstep of death,
They might realize how wrong they have been,
About all those things they didn't even mean!