Untitled Song

why do people lie, and say "it'll get better soon"?

To be so dishonest is actually pretty fucking rude,

Because it doesn't and right now I've made it to twenty two

I'll be 23 soon and it has only ever got severely worse

Unless a torturous agonising ordeal was always my fortune

Like who the fuck told anyone it'd be a good idea for you

To tell anyone "it'll get better soon" if you say it you sin and sign your doom

Because it's a lie. And I'm now at a point where my brain

My prefrontal cortex develop when I'm twenty five,

So in two and a half years or so my head finalises and says yep job done fine

Then that is me for the rest of my fucking life,

Which means, I can never NOT be traumatised

I can NEVER fully recover or go a whole month feeling alright

It's likely if life stays the same as mine now then every day I want to cry

I'll feel tears constantly dampening my eyes,

I'll get hurt and then I will apologise despite being wise enough

To know that ain't right, I'll have pain everywhere, massive bruises on my thighs

Just slowly waiting actually excited to come face to face with my demise

I want to die and that's the honest truth, think of me looking at the sky

a distant memory is all I should be. I've got no more fight

And to be honest I only stayed alive for the sake of my cats

And outliving enemies from pure spite but I have reconsidered

I win more if I walk towards that bright white light at the end of the tunnel

When it reaches my sight, if they value an earth like this one

they're dark, strange, closed minded and feel fright

But the only thing we're promised from the second we're born

Is that one day, you are gonna die.