I don’t mind it much anymore,

We’re all gonna die in the end,

I used to care a lot before,

Now I’m too tired to defend.

All I care about is music and my daily escape,

My grades are okay, my friends are nice,

All I need is that daily escape,

Don’t mean to sound cliche, but I’m cool as ice.

I guess it’s either just the mental illness,

Or someone saved my soul,

Whatever, I’m done with this sickness,

I’ve already lost all my talent and my goal.

This poem’s kind of lame,

But I want to write at least something,

Just so I can claim,

“Yeah, I wrote something today, yeah, it sure was something”