A thought from my mind goes into whirls and eventually gets lost in time.
A thought from my head goes into papers and usually gets thrown away instead
A thought from my brain goes into actions and vile attempts
but why am i standing here alive?
I am confused with what to feel. Should I be happy or should I just seal the deal.
Killing myself is what I conceal. Hard to be happy when sadness is what I reveal.
I have an existence in a world misused.
Pointless to have on opinion when yours is never true
I'm not worth your time, I'm a wasted human in a dying world and everything's a mess.
I'm not as important as you think I am. Everything's an illusion.., a trick
to making you think that life isn't a boring brick.
My time will come and yours too. But I'm sure I'll be ahead of you.
--shitwriting at its finest--
YOU ARE READING
a bunch of crap on my notebooks
PoesíaCover says it all also, trigger warning for some chapters also, again, not all of these are poems. just random things i think of then decide that it needs to be seen on paper. (you dont have to read this, i just have nowhere else to put these)
