End it all red

I can't tell you how much
I miss writing
only a fresh pair of wings feels as good
I can't tell you how much wasted  time I've wasted just sitting by the wayside, wasting away being wasted
waist deep in this shit creek
Sure there are plenty of pretty flowers growing there along the shore
I can't tell you how much I hate myself for withering so
A dagger in the lung
Socially inept.
with dope we had a bond with any variation we had a shared prison
I tortured type of living
A mutual
Death