My 3rd Poem

Nothing says emo like a poem so here's another one from the twisted mind of Ricky Walker...

Talking to Myself

I wake up every morning with a pain in my chest.
Could it be from a lack of love or is it too much stress?
I should go to a doctor but I go to my dealer instead.
Bottle up my problems 'cause dealing with 'em brings up feelings I dread.

I gotta talk to myself 'cause I'm the only one who listens.
Had some good friends, but now I never see 'em. I miss them.
You see, you would think I'm an arsonist from the bridges I've burned.
I grew up with the mentality of a narcissist, but now I've learned
that the amount of love you get is determined by how much you give in return.

But I'm still sleeping too damn much, I need a reason to live.
Find a good job, a wife, have a few kids.
Instead here I am now with nothing. It is what it is.
No. Fuck that. Stop bitching because everyday is a gift.

Gotta keep moving. Can never stay still.
I can still be whatever I want, that's my power of will.