Tied with the ropes.
Of the statues they erect.
Tired of consuming all kinds of content.
Screaming.
Won’t resolve a feeling of disconnection.
It’s just confusing to live in a world you reject.
To experience feelings, you gave up.
To draw attention to the details.
Of the lost trollies on the tracks.
Of the abandoned town of my heart.
And it’s so distressing finding out.
A place is a vase where everything keeps pouring.
All the misuse.
All the suffering.
I am, in it, contributing.
I am nothing but a hollow selfish man.
Running errands related to an ambiguous state of art.
A state of greater merit that cannot be found.
Manufactured a relic.
A relic in which they believe.
In which they serve purpose.
In a society I don’t belong.
In a river drowned too young.
which was supposed to be my Rubicon.
and the world moves on..
I am just sick of being young.
I am just sick of my sickening.
Trapped in a state of constant neglect.
I guess I forgot to start so;
I am stopping.
I am stopping.
I am stopping functioning I am stopping.
I am topping.
The charts of the miserable fools, psychotic.
Or divine.
I lost track of thoughts I lost track of time.
I lost.
I am just losing.
Between gambling and hoping a thin line I am choosing.
I am prone to.
Bruising.
Why can’t life end, have a fresh start where flowers can be blooming.
I died.
For you.
I loved nothing like you.
I forgive.
I am satisfied.
With what you gave me to work with.
With what’s inside.
I am sorry but I can’t help the feeling that everyday I wake up I am failing you.
I am sorry but I can’t stop the feeling that you’re losing interest in me.
I am sorry.
I wish to leave so you’d forget me.
I am sorry.
To even think that from the start.
And my whole persona can’t help but fall apart.
You define me.
Breathe existence into me.
I am sorry.
I really am.
To be nothing but a selfish man.