This level of melancholy, hanging in my weary eyes,
Its not so easy to survive when you’re breathless.
Surroundings feel like being in a vacuum box,
Filled with all toxic faces, slamming and crushing your highs.
Trapped too inside your mind, too much on the internet,
Too much food inside your belly, too much maturity?
Why don’t you listen to me, don’t you think I’m something?
You’re too little you don’t know the world,
You think of yourself very highly.
This world is a strange place, and I agree.
Maybe one day I will be somebody,
Somebody in this world who feels belonged and mattered.
This isn’t reality but the hopes of my delusions,
That I will make it happen.