Nearing the final page, but I know I don’t want it to be the end of my days.
Why can’t I find it in me to breathe again?
Maybe I’m trapped in a cycle of too much torment.
If only I could break free and somehow all of this could lie dormant.
But my existence is a hoax, and I’m in the middle of the crossfire.
It makes me wonder how long these people have wanted my time to expire.
So while I try to untangle the mess in my mind, I’ll try to make the best of this minuscule amount of time.
Maybe in the meantime I can appreciate the sunshine.
But something tells me I’ll continue to suffer until I reach my intolerable demise.