Does routine ever stop?
Does monotony ever end?
Will it always be a cycle?
Waiting for each weekend?
Will I ever get up,
And not wait to go back to bed?
What does it mean to have purpose?
And not wish to be dead.
What’s the ultimate goal?
Why should I keep persevering?
What’s waiting at the end?
What is the meaning?
What story do I believe?
Why can’t I be like everyone?
And not doubt what I was taught?
Maybe then I wouldn’t feel this done.
So in the end I’m the villain.
The one to blame for my hurt.
If I would stop beings so twisted,
Would stop feeling like dirt.
Why can’t I be grateful?
Just be happy,
And not **** in my head.
JUST STOP FEELING ******.