When everything seems all good and better,
there is still something trying to remove the curtain,
and it's always a dark path, one where you're stuck and lost,
Life just tends to hit you with all its goth.

And you're just wishing why you exist?
I mean isn't it funny, watching change shatter and break you,
when your insides curl knowing you prepared for something that's not going to happen,
a big lie all twisted in a form you can't explain anymore.

I mean how long do we endure,
Does it not affect you, all these fake transitions,
begging for attention, where does it stop, it doesn't,
Life teaches you lessons and you gotta learn through each one.



Be your own warrior and fight your battles,
what if I'm not ready for such uncertainty thrown at me at random,
And a small decision makes such an impact on your life,
But I can't regret it when I'm to blame so I must face?

Face it scared and confused,
not knowing of how this will be the course in the future,
I mean maturity at a base level, 
I'm just a teen understanding how the world works.

And I feel like I'm screaming into a void,
where I'm not seen or understood,
What is the use of being a poet when I can't capture it,
Or am I so stuck up in my own world trying to catch it?

Are poets all broken and lost and searching for someone who sees them?
Because writing it all down just makes sense,
cause your mind can't understand this hypocrisy,
I mean surviving is just a word at this point, I don't feel like I'm living.

What does it all mean, coming at a turbo tolling on you,
destiny, plot twist, faith, karma is a *****,
and everything has a cost, even things that don't need money,
So i guess I'll sit and cry making sense of what's going on...

This is not a poem, it's got no structure, no flow, no rhyme,
just pure raw words trying to speak cause my voice is dead,
I don't want to be corrected or judged,
coz I am done trying to live up to expectations or minor adjustments.

I am just in a state of conundrum, and this world may cease to exist,
it's all in a sense of peripheral vision, or a drunk poet high on water,
alcohol or smoking something i wouldn't try, rather have a spiritual being beside me,
Or might as well fall into a coma and rot there slowly while my senses fade away into nothingness.