i cant write anymore,
nothing i want to say- everything seems a bore.
ive ended up in a place where i dont no exactly how i feel,
I just dont no whats fake and what is real.
No judgments on peoples motives i just wish i couldnt feel,
Then maybe i could heal.
im sick of being an emotionally drained wreck,
Sick of feeling upset.
So worried as to what will become of the future- not
enjoying today,
And i dont want it to be this way.
Am i crazy or and i just torn,
between what i want and who i am, am i not worthy? sometimes
i wish i wasnt born.
Will i ever get the things that forfill and satisfy peoples
lives?
Or is it just me afraid to take that dive.
Why am i so insecure and so out of place,
Do i fit anywhere within the human race?
And then i wonder why i am sitting here writing such a sad
little poem,
And i wonder have i even grown.
from when i started writing all the suicidal thoughts up
until now?
Im not sure if i have and im not sure how,
But to the sad reality of life i will never bow.