The endless feeling of being in a never ending void is only dictated by the true sense of nothingness one may feel in all situations- that is the true reason I am myself, or not. This world- no, this... nightmare we surrender to and except as a new comfort is torturous. The fake beings we’ve become, soulless shells of a once executed victim of that suicide mission, is left to rot. But why are we so unnatural in our decay, we are in denial of our rotten selves, constantly hiding them in one sense or another.. for what?
Friends?
Self confidence?
A job?
Family?
...
Death.
YOU ARE READING
Sad but True
PoetryJust some sad things I wrote when I was feeling numb... your not alone! Please be aware this may trigger some people, if you get upset easily, please don't read (just in case).
