Something inside me is pounding.
Do I still have a heart to feel about the situations that looks surreal?
I witnessed a horrible scenario, it was revealed.
But all I knew was there's something pounding inside me.

I can't explain if I was hurt nor I was nervous,
But I noticed something within me
It's breaking me, but I was confused
Tears won't come out, even emotions were unreadable

My hands were shaking, I was rattling deep inside me
But nothing comes out, I want to calm myself down
So all I did was to keep in silence, will you say it's gonna be alright while holding my hand?
I don't know how all of these will end.

i can say all kinds
of things that are confusing
none are really true

Because love is selfish

Or is it selfless?

I think it's both.

This desire for connection is insatiable
Because the connections I choose
To wrap my greedy hands around
Are as bad off as me
And if I can't love myself,
How am I to love someone just like me?

I used to say I know myself so I could judge myself
Now I am what I am

I am the centre of my own universe Instilled with alter egos that bring forth a pain that's hidden in a place where it  can not be found

Just like the moon a servant of this world but somewhere I am a tin god that brings light to someone dark path where no hope is found .

Emotions are rather complicated, I suppose
What is this irksome tickle in my heart?
It is not sadness, nor is it anger, or even grief
Not quite guilt or confliction
Perhaps a sort of blend of the two
It feels rather uncomfortable, like an itching inside
That is barely out of reach
Like a blur in the corner of my vision
But no matter how much I turn my head, I still can't see it clearly
This feeling seems to twist my stomach
And press on my heart
And pound in my mind
A constant pressure that can't be placed
I wonder if this puzzling emotion
Is something similar to emptiness
A hollowness that is unfamiliar
Sinking in a sea of scattered thoughts
Far too deep to retrieve now
And now
All I am left with
Is a perplexing feeling swirling everywhere inside me
A sort of apathy
That can't be named