I Want To Make Myself Anew, I Want To Turn Into Something ElseMature

I want to get drunk
On the screams from this darkness
That lives inside my head,
As though I could turn pain into alcohol

If that was true, I'd be selling
A dime for a dozen bottles
Of this sweet sickly-whimpers
Because I've got enough to turn
The nation into alcoholics

There's so much that it could overflow,
Whisky from burning up inside,
Vodka from the insanity,
Perhaps a bit of beer from this spiralling

After all, someone should manage to 
Benefit from this and maybe you say
That I should find something else to write about
Once in a while, but don't you understand?

Depression has consumed me.
There is nothing left but this flaming shell,
This husk of a human being
Left behind after the shadows came back

Hell, I don't even know what I'm doing here.
I don't even know who I am anymore.
I don't even know why I'm still writing. 

The End

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