I Write Dark Poetry

So it seems the World's beauty has faded, much like my dreams.. In the freezing rain, I wonder what it'd
mean to feel alive again.

So it seems history repeats itself, like a dead end job stacking Tesco's shelves. Bleeding from boredom, ignoring the pain.

I don't know where I'm going, I don't know if these dark eyes are showing that I am forever lost in the doldrums.