My life

People ask me why i cut myself,
I say so i can go to hell,
My depressed state,
is weaken by hate,
I torture my self so i can feel something,
There is no love for me, nor is there anything,
No girl no job no nothing,
But alot of time left alone in a empty home,
Listening to music like Korn, Slipknot, and Megadeath,
Only makes me want to cut the flesh,
Theres nothing left but a weaken boy,
There is no retribution for me,
Twisted by insanity,
I hear Voices in my head,
Who tell me i should be dead,
Yeah i'm a little skitso
I see a shrink,
To help me think
But all it does is piss me off,
This is not a poem that rhymes
Its just a little thing i call life,
I am a little suicidal,
OK well maybe alot,
I might think about death all the time,
But its something that helps me unwhine
People say that i am crazy,
Maybe so I'm also lazy.
I may talk about it all the time
But it doesn't mean I'll do it
It just helps me release the pressure,