The Pain Of Existence

The ground beneath my feet, began to become incomplete, as I could feel the heat from my body leaving. Wobble, wobble, don't topple over and fall...go get someone on standby, for a 911 call.

      The cells in my brain are dying, each one finding it's way out, and I envy all of them, for I wish I could escape my mind, trying to run from the inside but, still there are no strides. The true harshness of staying alive.

I feel the air I struggle to breathe, become as thin as the skin under my sleeves, as if it all wants to leave. All the parts of my body and me, they all long to leave.
I'm not scared of what awaits in the afterwards, I'm scared of how long it will take to get to there.

I could speed up the process, so others can call me selfish, despite them not knowing what hell is, but I think they'll be okay, you'll eventually forget what you can't see anyways.

It's like drowning in the water, forcing a way to shore, just to choke on the sand, made from the tears and souls of the poor. In order for your mind to survive, you must grasp and rip away the hopes and dreams of others, of every child, Father and Mother. Will it be worth it? To never see the sun rise again?
It's better to remain lost, nothing is worth the cost. Do not cause pain, so do not be cared for again.

The solidification of the manifestation that is your shame, you must carry the weight around with you, like a trophy for playing this game.