Why is it so hard,
To feel the simplest things,
Like the joy and happiness,
And living up my dreams,

Things get harder,
And harder to breathe,
Only expectations,
Turned disappointment it seems,

If this is the journey,
For me to get through,
I wish I could live to see,
Where this path leads me.

Why does everything,
Feels so tiring,
With the endless pain,
Driving me insane,

Every day,
It eats my self away,
Draining my soul,
Taking a heavy toll,

Looking for calmness,
In this calamity,
In this lonely world,
That is not for me.

There are so many things,
I wish I didn’t hear,
I wish I didn’t see,
And wish I didn’t have to live through,

Some were painful,
Some were ridiculous,
Some were heartbreaking,
And some were unbearable,

They live in me,
Suffocating me while I try to breath,
Killing me while I try to live,
And haunting me like an enemy,

Trapping me in an endless cycle,
Of never-ending spiral.

I wonder what others do,
In my shoes right now,
When screaming no longer,
Break the bricks inside me,
When crying no longer,
Console the drying heart,
When writing down a word,
Feels blank and empty,

Surrounded by the stillness,
And gravitating void.

If you quit,
I would quit too,
Even when the world,
Is all against you,
I’ll be beside you,
Staying true,

The world have shaped you,
To be someone,
The opposite of you,
I will accept,
And always believe,
In the best of you,

Because no one else,
Will be there,
I’m here, I am you.

In every things that I do,
In each breath,
In each steps,
In each actions,
That I tried,
I felt like I gave everything,

Yet,
There are more times,
I questioned myself,
For what,
When I don’t feel,
Any connection,
Or reasons to keep.

This loneliness is more,
Than pettily being single,
It is about existence,
And a reason to live,

I’m untethered to anything,
Want release from the living.

I tried, too feel and heal,
I tried, to run and have fun,
I tried, to be someone,

As I tried, again and again,
I’ll return, to square one.

So many things are unnecessary,
Like to breath today,
When tomorrow is already a history,
Written and smitten with misery,

To want but unobtainable,
To hope but unescapable,
To wish but breakable,
To dream but unbearable,

And when to live,
Is but a hassle.