The existential weight of the world
rests heavy on my shoulders.
I've worn myself down to the bone,
and found peace in grief that smolders.

I eat enough to carve a name from within,
but never enough to keep afloat.
I'm trapped in a cave—
with an opening so thin,
I'd starve myself to death,
just to see the light at the end.

I seek love in the morning sun
and strip myself of joy in the hollow night.
I'm a liar and a hypocrite—
for I tell beautiful lies,
mesmerizing those who seek faith,
while I pray each night,
to meet a peaceful fate.

I walk in sonder,
blowing kisses to babies,
smiling to strangers—
always stopping to smell the daisies.

I almost cry, passing forgotten souls,
many names faded on headstones.
And still I ponder:
if I were to let go,
could I ever atone?