Think outside the box

Memories is all that is left of me;
I am in the other side
stuck in a box made out of glass.
I still can read the papers
the news, they bore me to death
and I wish I could just die.
In the moment I scream in pain
because in fact I am shit scared of
fucking dying.
I am alone in the box and
glass is all I can love now.
I gently move my fingers and I try
to feel what´s inside of me.
I am a second-hand pair of jeans for fat women
it could fit in millions of me in that
fucking pair of pants.
one of me against millions of me.
that´s almost as heavy as a fat woman.
Living has not been delicious for quite a while
but I still remember my life
outside the box
outside the glass.
It had so much more things to love than just glass.
Suicide is dying of old age
It´s a dog´s life,isn´t it mate?
To be alive: that´s my fucking Kharma.