how many voices?
how many screams?
will it take for you to not ignore me?
how long will i have to stay alive?
how long will i have to fake being happy?
how long until you notice i wasn't there?
maybe time is just a illusion,
an imaginary concept we tell ourself we are wasting,
and definitely not gaining.
i wonder why things are how they are,
before falling,
and falling,
into something that seems so dark,
i can't barely breathe.
perhaps opening my eyes would be helpful,
but they are shut.
and i feel dirt,
all around me.
am i dead?
am i nothing but of bones and rotting flesh?
am i just gone?
that can't be.
i can't just go,
without saying my worth.
but i can't.
because,
that wouldn't be true.
apart of feelings collection