Suddenly you're twenty, and you'll lie on your back, you'll face the ceiling and you'll look at it like it's only thing that mattered in the world for you.

You were old enough but you were
too young to think like one
You were breathing but you're not alive.
You were on your back
but you were not there.
There's a certain coldness
around you but you're bathed in sweat
There's an endless flow of tears
but your eyes had long ran dry.

There's a burning hole in your mind that kept on thinking about the things you might have done wrong, or the things that could go wrong tomorrow or the next day after.

You wouldn't know.
But you know.

And you'll realize that people were
wrong when they said that life is
a pocket full of happiness.
They are wrong.
And so are you.

You are wrong believing them.