I spend half my life in baths
But I feel rather *****.
I'm a writer at loss of words,
Speechless.
Perhaps my education wasn't enough,
The praising of jesus mightve not worked
For I am ever so unethical.
And so I'd like to drown exactly here.
In my excessively bad and cryptic poetry,
Envious of other's talent, opportunities and lifes.
On my way of trying to seem a new human I forgot who I was and who I am.
So back to the drawing board... Which never existed and will never exist.
Routine living and avid hopes.
Haunted by an image of me that will never catch this lifetime.
I've no-one to read this and no-one to read me
And it kinda feels lonely.
I think existence is meant to be lonely,
**** the "social creatures we gotta be together" ****.
At loss of words, ***** and unethical.
A filthy paradox of human life.
Am i not the epitome of human existence?
The one thing I've have never dreamt of becoming,
resentful, abhorrent and alone.