Sketch - 9/8/05

A sketch on a piece of notebook paper, Flawed of imperfection and the eraser. I tried to draw exactly what I need, There is only an outline to be seen. Inside seems empty almost like myself, A girl like that is found only in hell. I knew exactly what I wanted back when, Fuck this piece of paper. Try again. And another picture drawn in my book, All this one has is the good looks. It seems like every other I've done. As shallow as each and every one. I can always look just never touch, One day I just want to be good enough. This isn't what I wanted to create, Fuck trying this again, it's too late. I'm burning my paper for my own sake, Trying over and over is only a waste. Nothing ever seems to turn out right, I will never know what it is I like. Put a gun in my mouth, I feel the need, I'm not convinced of my own mortality. I've lost all hope, this seems unreal, All the images make me not want to feel.