I'm searching for someone or something that could help me live.
Because my life is full of colors described as psychosis
and my world is filled with bloody corpses
The only people understanding me
are voices that I created
The other humans are chasing me
Nobody wanted, nobody stayed, nobody explained
Each time I wake up, I am less than I was
Each time I try, I discover more but am less.
I will die accepting that I never was human.
YOU ARE READING
Prose and poetry
PoetryProse and poetry, feelings and speech in text. I wanted to live as a human, But never never really was a man.
