Signed, Me.

Dear Jesus, I don't know how to start this letter,
There's nothing I know that can make me feel better.
I'm sick of my life, I'm sick of myself,
I'm all sick of constantly crying for help.
This town is a mess, but it's worse in my head,
I swear I don't care, let's show me my deathbed.
Don't give me a sign, I don't need your hopes,
Here are the razors, the jump, and the ropes.
The car-crash, the heavy, sick-feel in my throat,
Comes down to nothing, I'm sinking the boat.
Someday, I'd still give up, so why can't I now?
I'm tired of asking the whys and the hows.
I don't want an answer, just adds to the problem,
Thought I could do it but no one can solve 'em.
I'm just a kid, I'm lost and confused,
Don't want to be found, don't need an excuse.
To just disappear is all that I want,
My mind is a pencil, sometimes it's blunt.
This is the end, at least I got done,
I fail in rhyming, but I never won.