A cascade of moods flush my seemingly eternal slumber, Reminding me that I am, in fact, alive. Although, I don't feel very alive, latched to cumber. A battle where winning is something to strive. A game of trials where I battle alone. No amount of pleading will change me my fate. Something's hunting for my soul until it is gone. It's hard to walk humbly in a world full of hate.
I'm watched by bystanders who relate but hide. To make me feel alone, excuse it with pride. You must have people, so for that, you are wrong. They tell themselves this 'til I've broke and I've died. I question their motives, now that I'm a ghost. How could someone love so **** selfishly cruel? You love for some people, yet in that, you boast. They're hypocrites, and I love like a fool.