Living through life's mediocrity,
With nobody by my side
No one to listen to my lament
No one to hold me to heart's content
And any rumors I circumvent
keeping me writhing in self-torment
I'm the one percent
Who expresses dissent
In the face of judgement
I close myself in this mental convent
In the presence of anyone I frequent
And alone at this desk is where to my frustration I give vent...
Letting my heart, speak it's malcontent,
And in writing, it's true intent
Until I eventually get to the full-stop.
Anxiety... the bane to my existence
At the opportune time opposing my resistance.
Dragging me into an uncontrollable state of stress,
Where I stand idle, where I'm a mess.
All my insecurities resurface, and
I think that I can't handle this,
That I'm not that great after all.
That I'm not desirable in the eyes of all.
So I stand silent in desolation
In a state of isolation.
Where I wonder who would put up,
With this mishap of creation...
That happens to be me.
In perpetual solitude I linger in the shadows.
Fragmented in which pieces to me are unbeknownst... unrecognisable.
Am I who I was or am I nothing but a memory of what I once were? Something other than me. A corrupted part of my insanity.
Maybe I am nothing more than lifeless flesh, rotting in perpetual solitude.
Tingling feelings in your chest,
A buzzing euphoria in your head.
The heavy breaths that fill your lungs.
The warmth of a touch long longed-for.
Lip to lip, a magic trick...
So easy to conjure
yet so difficult to come by,
A kiss, A kiss that's what I miss... in this lonely life of mine.
Two hearts racing in syncope,
Two souls combined.
The adrenaline rush...
A feeling undefined.
Yes truly inexplicable,
Yet sometimes described,
As hundreds of fireworks
exploding in your mind.
I'm lost in a world where I'm a Phantom,
A Phantom that nobody sees.
And although I'm always there screaming in their faces so that they might finally listen, I'm still unheard, .... unspoken to.
Trapped in my own being,
Unable to express how I feel to all those who roam in the proximity of my ever fading aura.
Every now and then they do get a glimpse of me, but they quickly dismiss me as an illusion....
A figment of their macabre
When you're so depressed,
And your brain is messed,
Fucking up, so much you can't get a glimpse or a touch, of what is.. reality.
Is this what they call humanity?
People hate, people relate,
Otherwise they just forget with no regret that you exist.
And you're trapped in yourself,
With no one to communicate.
Made to wonder whatever you did wrong, to deserve the alienation from the fucking whole nation.
Wondering whether you'll ever be important to anybody. Hiding in the shadows, hiding from the sun.
Realising you'll never be The One for anyone.