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Has this become my life?
Writing poems that few people take their time to read
Looking at the walls, windows, and shadows hoping to see light
Waiting to have a social life again

Has this become my life?
Waiting anxiously for a friend to call or text
Knowing that I can only count them with one hand
One hand because there are restrictions set upon my life

Has this become my life?
Talking to thyself in the middle of the living room
Listening to music and thinking of what could have been
Looking at thyself in the mirror and controling the tears
Painting my face with no ocation just because I'm bored

Has this become my life?
Overthinking each past situation
Realizing every mistake with agony
Looking at the sky and screaming why

Has this become my life?
Whispering to myself that it's all gonna be okay
Meanwhile listening to others enjoying the outside
Trying to be better in a bubble
Being judged by every single present mistake or action

Has this become my life?
Being the center of attention at home
Driving to doctors here and there, there and here
Getting labs done every once in a while

Has this become my life?
My entire future lying in the hands of others
Proffessionals determining which pills I should pop
Parents restricting my social life
Listening to every opinion of what I should do with my life

Has this become my life?
Bursting into tears in my mothers arms
Accepting only professionals and mom to unburden me
Denying help from others because the anger exceeds the forgivenes

Has this become my life?
YES.
Copyright under Delilah Wine Williams
"Has this become my life?" is a literal excerpt from episodes in my life.
Harold Dec 2018
Only created

It's been made up
There is nothing Good has to prove to us
Keen observer seeking entertainment
Indeed he shared life but deaThanks is a must

Lie and lie, eledge that he has spoke
Paradise, eternity and salvation
Talk of a dilution designed to loose choice
Dream of his sight there won't be such ocation

Ought he be the help that there is not
Sure enough, gave free will even to misslead
So profets, saints of burnt up pants
While living do decide your own criteria meet

There is though what's chosen to enjoy
Be it what it may, mix pride and pleasure
So name not the Good, will do respect and gracefulness
Which will be the choices of a being without measure.

— The End —