I'm,
not quite insane,
insane enough that is to end,
this pain in my self-wounded soul
but I'm on a roll 
with this depression kick.
I'm just the "misery chick"
I think morid thoughts all the time,
if only to block out the incessant whine
of this holidng place for imbeciles,
so fondly referred to as "high school"
Yes, I'm crazy...
parts of my life are somewhat hazy
and other parts and completely dissapeared from my mind...
...where'd they go?
I'm crazy you know,
so will I ever be able to find them again?
And if not will they be replaced,
by different times and different faces?
...I'm not quite insane enough
to end this pain with pills
orperhaps bullets, or a knife,
even a rope could end,
end my life.
I could slash my wrists and my blood could drain,
but no...
no, I'm not THAT insane.