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618 · Oct 2017
Did we ever even exist
Zara Oct 2017
At some point we all ask ourselves
why we do exist,
Why life keeps going on and on
until we are dismissed.

We try to create a meaning,
to the meaningless of it all,
A meaning that will help us up,
when life will make us fall.

"You have to make the most of it"
is what people say,
The most of school, the most of work
the most of every day.

The days build up to years
and time will pass us by,
We'll soon begin to wonder
if life just is a lie.

We lie when we are buying
those things we never desired,
We lie when we are living,
when all we are is tired.

Our smiles keeps fading more and more,
our laughs are never real,
We keep on dreaming of love,
yet sorrow is all we feel.

When we get old and tired
waiting  to be dismissed,
That's the time we'll question,
if we ever did exist.
Zara Oct 2017
Eyes are stinging slightly,
the tiredness is always there.
The world of sleep is mighty,
through days it makes us bear.

Oh it could be so easy,
to fall fast asleep.
It would be less painful,
than to lay awake and weep.

Weep is not the only thing,
sometimes I stay awake and ponder.
At times I even laugh and smile,
and ever so often I wonder.

Because at night it's still and silent,
and my thoughts have room to roam.
So why should I fall into slumber,
when my thoughts have found their home.  

A night owl people call me,
but that's the wrong phrase to use.
I love to sleep no more than you,
but at night my thoughts let loose.

So don't you even question,
the naps I take at day,
It's bright and loud and noisy,
and my thoughts are far away.
Zara Oct 2017
Sometimes I'm pushed by others and sometimes I go there alone,
The traps of my thoughts will lead me,
to a destination that is yet unknown.

Soon enough I realize that I have been  here before,
The place of pounding heartbeats,
and anxiety opens its door.

From there it moves quite quickly: the sadness will appear,
I'm not scared of monsters,
But my thoughts I truly fear.

My thoughts are afflictive
they make me feel so bad,
I think of them and wonder,
If it's the worst anxiety that I've
 had.

But the worst is yet to come,
And the worst has all ready been,
Because every single anxiety attack,
Is the worst you'll feel within.

— The End —