All of my zippers are broken
all of my t-shirts are stained
all of my words have been spoken
all off my hope has been drained.
There’s not much left or a place to go
there’s nothing left but be a statistic
there’s no place safe to have a show
there’s no new way to be deterministic.
They think of me when they want to forget
they give pain with each and every breath
they will be happy that I no longer sweat
they break the chain to become one with death.
It’s not your fault I’m a very hard case
it’s time to weather the storm of my life
it’s only in another time or warm place
it’s only with you I’ve been without strife.
dead beat poet 
I can relate to this one… for sure, I can.