*
In the real world
I am merely a passerby.
Finding no home to call my own.
I walk the dusty ***** streets
So lost and all alone.
Why then should it be this way?
Is this the modern way of life?
Am I to always suffer loneliness
A life beset by doubt.
*
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 6:54 AM UTC
i wanted to write down
what I felt
all I saw
was an empty paper
i couldn't explain it better
empty
that's what I feel
nothing more
nothing less
[the broken one]
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
This isn't living
This is dying
Everybody is craving
For either leaving
Or staying
You wake up
And try to make up
A reason to stay up
Which probably is to break up
The responsibilities', built up
You beg for mercy
And try convince yourself that you're worth it
But you know, you're feelings, you wrap it
Wrap it away to keep it
And to hear it
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC