Brittle, hopeless, pathetic is the word really.
No hopes and no aspirations left.
I try to look like all the rest.
With a proud rising and falling of my chest.
I know the jokes on me.
Who do I think I'm kidding?
Hiding behind painful smiles
One cannot escape reality.
And mine is, well, laughable.
At the very least I know why I bother
Why I atleast pretend to breathe.
I couldn't bare to be another burden
Another tear upon another cheek.
So I sit, chest crushed by my own knees.
Holding myself together piece by piece.
I swear this life will be the death of me.
Or worse turn out everlastingly.
Forced to face the raw, naked parts of me.
Ever searching for one redeeming quality.

That is not ever to be found.