Self loathing
confusion a snafu is what i am
nothing more but a waste of space

I always ponder why i am in this place
I want to have potential-to feel like i’m worthwhile, worth breathing, worth existing

Always asking for the truth, asking for an answer

shifting

Why can’t anyone hear my cry for help, my weep for the truth
Searching for a reason why i’m doubtful and suffer these scars subliminally

Malady
I’ve come to accept i’m mentally ******
A loony
A daft existence
Unhappy threnody

but am i existing?

Is this actuality, reality
Too much sensibility

emotion teeming sensitivity

why
why

why