I’m not even comfortable sitting here cause I cant
even fucking hear myself think;
I don’t need people
(But I really do)
I need space
I’ll choose you when I have too;
I fucking hate being alive;
I am not sure why the fuck I’m alive
I’m “30 year old boy with no direction
my great depression is a spiritual one”
A lack of motivation to feel anything.
I swear I had some logical thought there,
but I quit; I gave up in the face of a twit;
immaturity may think it wins in the face of logic;
I’ am pretty; pretty and kind;
Kind of sick; OK really sick.
I twist people fate, feel happy
I should be dead.
I sometimes doubt I’ll ever grow up;
don’t lose your shit;
do not lose your shit.
I’m so fucking mature!
I can’t even use words to describe words!
I thought I was talented!
This ebb and flow has withered me down!
I’m pretty sure this is the end of who I am;
until I get so lost I choose to discover what I really am.
Once I find the motivation too live with purpose;
Until i find the reason to pour my love unto another person;
Until I feel the light in giving light to others;
‘Til then’ I may just be dark and sad;
mad and pissed off.
I’m not happy with the way shit flows.
flowers grow in shit;
comes from the dirt.
comes from something broken;
Everything burned to the ground;
creates the earth so green;
We find profound.