Cryptic

Pain is something I see,

I call it my glee.

It's more than just circumstance,

It's a string of irresistible snaps.

I wish I were a ray of hope instead,

But my words are haphazard,

And the meaning's twisted.

Things I do are lie,

Things I say are cryptic.

I think living is a crime,

And the ones who don't commit it die.