I'm not sad.

It's just that I wake up in the morning and I wish I didn't.
Every time I see a car zooming past, I also see myself in front of it.
I stopped crying because I feel like my tears are apologies for living.
They say it is only a vice but they will never understand how my blackened lungs serves as the only thing that reminds me I am alive just for the very reason that I am still struggling to breathe.
The clock is working but my time is frozen. I took its hands and put them in shackles.
My body feels a little heavy than usual as it fails to lift me out of my troubles.
I read a hundred different worlds from books and wish that I'm in one of them.

I'm all of these things...
                   but I'm not ******* "sad".