{Quoia}
I wanna jump off a balcony just to do it. And when I'm halfway to the ground, I wonder if my happiness will come then.
Age 11 is when I lost that happiness and started to know more about the world. More of the cruel things.
Age 14 turning 15 in July still going through it haven't found the happiness.
I've been praying and praying. And shouting God's name. I'm starting think to he doesn't me. But I'm wrong cause all those dreams he gives me.
All the dreams about demons, angels, and people. The bags under my eyes carry the weight. I can feel the sadness going through my body like a river.
I wish I could take drugs. So I wouldn't have to worry about my problems. But I don't wanna be the flesh.
I'm starting to believe I was always sad. Just trying to crawl my way out of it, like I was 6ft under buried alive.
I'm getting tired of being asked what's wrong. Cause the answer will always be idk or I'm just not happy. Then they try to dig deeper on why I'm not happy. Like I know myself.
I don't wanna go back to my wicked ways, like I'm the KKK.
I'm at the point where I don't know what I want to do. I don't know if I wanna live or just go. But If I go I won't meet God. So I guess I'll stay
