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I feel so low, so, sickly, low...

It's that lowly, cold, lonely feeling that sinks you down into the most basic instincts of life, of living, of....just being.

Almost like, in this forest of death, I'm lost, and hurt, and alone.
In this ocean, I'm longing for the shore.
But in the dessert, I might find a thousand white roses.
It seems to be the perfect ending for a life wasted sleeping.
But they might be dead by the time I get there.

Life is too short to spend it sad
And is to pathetic to spend alone
I just wish...for a hand to hold
Or a heart to call mine, and mine alone...