teenage dystopia

The sky is gray and the grass is dead;
cold, empty, desolate;
Pope Gregory says its July;
The sun should be out,
yet every day is the same;
cold, empty, desolate

They say I have years and years to live,
though the thought of one more day
is enough to make me cry;
Your golden years, they say;
if this is gold,
then please, dear Lord, I won't
I won't stand for another day of this;
Golden years!? I guess so;
If you're pretty,
and funny,
and popular,
then sure.
but a life of solitude,
a life of pain,
the feeling of worthlessness,
of ugliness,
of loneliness,
of pain,
of worthlessness,
is unlivable;

O Lord, if you're out there,
why do you hate me so much?
this life you gave me is simply unlivable.
please,
just take me out of it.
Amen.