Few days are okay.
Some days are fine.
Most days I want to die half the time.
Why am I so empty?
Am I as happy as I seem?
I scream and cry and shout but it doesn't mean a thing.
I know I have a purpose and I know I have cause...
But I just don't believe it, whenever I try, I fall.
So what if I hide within the confines of my room to escape the reality I'm forced to be in?
I don't care if I'm reclusive, I'd rather be that than abusive.
Just leave me alone...
This house no longer feels like home.
So leave me to suffer, I won't ask for your help, you'll tell me anyway that I'm a liar and doomed to hell.
I need someone to hold me, just let me not exist...
Why do I try?
Why do I persist?
Few days are okay.
Some days are fine.
Most days... I truly want to die half the time.
YOU ARE READING
Dichotomy
PoetryThe observant is always watching. Humanity is here and thriving, but our world won't be surviving our reign. Alive, but not noticed in living. Here we are. A new life, new words, a new start. Aug. 12th 2019 - June 18th 2021 Vol. 1
