You don't need me anymore
You know its true
Stop worrying about me like before
And spend your efforts on you

You're already miles ahead
I just can't follow
Just sleep on that comfortable bed
Dream yourself a better tomorrow

I couldn't be what you needed
I had to make way
With the parting wishes you provided
I'll be okay

If good is what the world should be,
Then why is there evil?
Why let us endure the pain of reality,
When we could've enjoy paradise?
I don't doubt God's plans
But I'd think about this a lot
Maybe this life was given
For us to get it all figured out

I tend to spend most of my time in dreams
People around me are bothered, it seems
A qoute I got from a book said
Reality exist because of our minds, without it, there is no universe.
So it got me thinking,
If the mind makes up the concept of our reality,
Are our dreams also part of our reality?
I'd invest my time in this theory,
Cause maybe I feel that we could control our dreams,
The only limit is our imagination
Or maybe, I feel happier in the comfort of my mind,
Rather than constantly trying to please the minds of others.

Why does every poem published feel risky?
Why does it cause me such a hard time?
I think "What am I even doing?"
And "Am I wasting my time?"

Is it recognition that I'm seeking?
Or is there something else I'm trying to find?

And just what is wrong with me?
Is this a talent, obsession, or is it an affliction?

If you could only see the way i scribble addictively..
I wouldn't be shocked if you staged an intervention.
Am I a poet or am I losing my sanity?
And could all my hopes be founded in fiction?

Still, my goal isn't nearly defined.
My mental organization could be improved..
I write as much as a nut case of some kind.
Is it in my best interest for my pen to be removed?

Patterns and stanzas keep me shallowly refined.
I'll ignore the hazard; it's excused.

*No reason to admit defeat because of cold feet.

Would you diagnose
This disease that's killing me
The medicine on the top shelf
Couldn't help me at most

A pain I can't describe
Just like a virus
It divides itself
By latching to my insides

I'm going sick
Prescribe me a cure
Open me up if you must
Just let it be quick

In need of healing
Before it gets worse
Lend me a helping hand
I'm slowly dying