Why can’t I find myself?
Where did the pieces go?
Will I ever know who I am?
Or will I continue to keep losing hope?
I guess sometimes it comes back.
But it’s still me that I lack.

Deception is starting to feel normal.
What kind of world do we live in where everyone wears a mask, hides their true colours, and has a hidden agenda?
What happened to finding any sort of meaning?
Why is life so crude?
I’m left opposed to the general population.
What’s left?
No hope.
No soul.
I’m finding that I’d rather be alone.
Seldom friends, mostly foes.
What’s next is left to the unknown.
So as I try to find a change I’ll hope that life gets better someday.

Maybe someday I’ll meet someone with galaxies behind their eyes.
Maybe we’ll get lost gazing at the stars.
Maybe their soul will feel effervescent.
But until then I’ll stare at the moon, waiting to find some meaning in this universe.
Maybe someday I’ll feel the sun shine it’s warm rays and I won’t be so alone.
Maybe someday the constellations will make sense and I’ll finally find my way home.
But until someday comes I’ll just keep wondering.

Faces come and go, I’ve lost almost all my hope.
Will I ever have anyone I can count on?
I guess I’ll have to find another song.
But everything I do and say is wrong.
And I have no idea how I’m still going on.
I’m stuck drowning in a sea of misery and hate.
If only I could find a way to escape.
But no ones around, just locked gates.
Maybe one day I’ll come across someone with a smile on their face.
So until I find new scenery,
I’ll try to figure out what it means to be truly me.

This is more than a petty mess.
I want to leave and be done with all the rest.
No one to trust, this life is so cold.
I’m blinded by hate but this is getting so ******* old.
I feel like I’m crippled on this lonely path.
Not focusing on what breath will be my last.
I guess I’ll just end up a thing of the past.
But my life is so meaningless no matter the track.

When everything always seems to leave.
What do you do to change the world you perceive?
Is there somewhere I could go with a little more hope?
I feel like by the end of this there will be a noose around my throat.
But I want to try to make this life count.
A change in the rhythm, maybe another sound.
So how can I live the life I’ve always dreamed of?
Something tells me I’m not enough.
So as I try to change things for the better, I’ll try to put together different letters and hope that in the future I’m more put together.

What’s going to happen next in this series of unfortunate events?
The masquerade presents:
My untimely and overweening death.
So why am I sitting here writing these words?
My existence is a hoax, haven’t you heard?
So as I accept that probably everyone will never care,
I’ll try to appreciate this last bit of air.
While they pick someone else to run into their grave.
Hopefully next time they will be saved.