the chains tighten
my face whitens
the realization that i'm lost
finally grips me

if it's assured that i shall one day reach my demise
does that not mean my purpose is pointless
every action i immerse myself in
all i'm really doing
is letting the seconds pass by

which makes me wonder

why we worship those with the most golden clocks
who've taken their minuscule seconds
and made something mesmerizing
but shun those who break the clock
those weary souls who were not
willing to have anymore of it

those who opened their own door
to the possibilities of something more
the possibilities of eliminating
this never ending torment
finally grasping some permanent form of elation

an escape
oh how I long for an escape

A poem a day
Keeps the doctor away
Two he may need to be called

Three poems a day
The doctor’s on his way
No way could his coming be stalled!

Four poems a day
The doctor has to stay
Five and tough is his work

If the number are six
The doctor’s in a fix
How could he stop the flying spark!

Poems by the hour
Is beyond the doctor’s power
Poems by the minute is his bane

It’s where he loses self
Badly needs a help
To be declared utterly insane!

Is this life real?
or is it a dream?
can I put my trust in people?
or is it just a scheme?
you can answer
put can you prove?
that this world
will even move?
do we have freewill?
or was it planned that way?
is this an illusion?
or is it really may?
is this true?
is life a lie?
does anyone know
if we even die?
will some one answer,
answer to me?
should I stay here?
or should I flee?

I feel like a loser stuck on the same level of life
Dying on the same exact part time after time again
Retry retry retry
I remember retry more fluently than my own name
Just wanted to be someone
Mean "special" in another's heart
Instead I received a dagger in my own
As the blood spills in circle around me
Forming a barrier I cannot cross
I stand, because I don't believe I deserve to sit
Absorbing the hatred towards myself
For becoming this being that I am not
What was I thinking when I decided to follow through with this plan
I realized it was wrong so long ago but it was a simpler time
Back than I was ignorant to the fact on what life really was
That it wasn't about being liked
It wasn't about being everyone's favorite
Now that I know the truth nothing is the same
I look upon my hands screaming fake at the top my lungs
I am fake, this is not who I am
It's too late for me though
Cause though I realize that this not who I am it is too late turn back
Not that there is a back to turn to
All I see is a trail of ashes because I burnt the real me out of existence
I don't even remember what I look like behind the mask
How could of been so blind
Now I cry in my sleep as attempt to remove the mask
Knowing that it is permanently glued to my face
For it is now my face
Because my true face has dissolved to waste