The life I created is about to pop,
Worse days are about to drop,
Seeing the end of the simulation,
What was was indeed an illusion.

I think I’ve forgotten how to dream,
My mind’s looping a silent scream,
Losing myself, feeling like a waste,
A sorry excuse for a life misplaced.

“Your sob story is not that special,
Stop being too **** sentimental,”
These I tell myself every waking day,
Figuring out how it is to, again, be okay.

“Just go and do something about it,”
So hard when I just really want to quit.
It feels I’m just watching myself from afar,
Seeing he’s given up in his personal war.

Maybe I’ll wake up soon and feel better,
Maybe I’ll dream again and find my center,
I don’t know when for I lost all my hope,
I’m no longer living for all I do now is cope.