Sometimes I want to be dead,
But usually, I don't.
After all, it's all in my head,
So, of course, I certainly won't.
But I don't want to be alive,
At least not alive like this.
I've tried and I've tried and I've tried,
But this isn't happiness.
So if I don't want to be dead,
And I don't want to be alive,
It's emotional purgatory up in my head
As I frantically try to survive.
So let's set ourselves on fire,
And rise up from the ash,
Create ourselves from thin air,
And start over from scratch.
But what will come out of the flame
Has no guarantee:
A phoenix of fury and fame,
Or the burn out remains of what used to be?
So I allow myself to be vulnerable
As the flame licks in my eyes.
I open my arms to the flammable,
And wait to be cremated or be baptized.