Learning to be grateful for your blessings
While dissimulating contentedness.
Undeluding is your soul that aches for interaction it seems to be blanking.
Unwritten wishes that derive hope from you, whom wishes for a fraction of reminiscence

And you are a selfish addict.
Destroying yourself over a feeling of nostalgia you’re unaware you’ve even experienced.
There are people in front of you who are very capable of making you laugh and giggle and squeal
Yet you look beyond them towards that unidentifiable something that you long for.

A slave to your mind,
A slave to your hopes for discovery
A slave to that unidentifiable something,
A slave to the self hatred you proclaimed as “nothing”
And will you ever escape it?

You will find that even while running!
And even while pleading--
And even while that small hamster causes a commotion in your head as it runs in place,
Progress painfully predictable,
Do you repetitively realize that your redundant expedition is indefinitely infinite
Physically synonymous to the hamster that continues to run even when it sees the path doesn't change.

As if it needs to run to maintain its sanity.
To not submit to psychosis over that torturous feeling or stage or whatever the hell of deja vu.
Do you even have any idea where anything will lead to if you don’t even know where you’re to stand?
And who will you crawl to when you’re stuck in that maliciously mundane state of emptiness?
When you’re unaware of who will be able to understand that never-ending journey of longingness—

Now hear it, despite its genericity, you truly feel like this pain is yours alone to bear.

Learning to be grateful for your blessings
When you can only yearn for the knowledge of which keeps your heart so unresponsive
Filled with worry that you’ll break a bone, should they be as hollow as you.

Happiness eludes you.
Fulfillment escapes you.
You.
Left pondering whether such a cure can even exist
To exterminate a disease as abnormally unsettling as this.

You,
A Crackbaby.