Why is it <br />i feel mocked by everyone and everything <br />even myself sometimes <br />while i sit here <br />listening to the rain <br />why <br />do i feel the need <br />to pull my own hair out? <br />what good will it make? <br />to feel the pain... <br />or to feel in control? <br />but for words i dare not say <br />is there hope in these dark days <br />but what good will that hope be? <br />will it just be destroyed like the rest.<br /><br />bethany seed<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dark-days-13/
