Annihilated

Anagram

[A/N: This poem describes the way we feel sometimes, debating on our existence, and the reason for our existence.]

The cruel world, the cruel choices,

All that I could do and say,

But just muffled voices.

I wonder if it's okay to live on,

With nothing to live for,

I know that dying is a sin,

But what other choice do I have ?

I never knew that all I ever had,

And all I ever wanted,

Was all that was never mine,

And all that could've never been.

The streaks are dry,

the infliction never will.

All so surreal, debatable, and feign,

It is an anagram for pain,

An anagram for my name.