11

a void so vague that it instills fear
whoever i see, i compare
to myself

this loneliness is killing me
something so shiny and likable i want to be
there is a massacre of all my potentials inside me
all self-made

don't know how to live
don't know how to die either
i'm stuck in between
not alive but not dead
all i want is to be something
i'm just a collection of “not”s
i lost all the battles i fought

can feel the pain of this life and its weight
can feel the emptiness of a dead soul gave up on its fate
my body is a rare place where nothingness bleeds
“i need love” it screams
but it doesnt know how to get one
so it just settles to be liked and gets none

being loved is not only taking but also giving
my hollow soul cant give, its not living

“she hates being weak
dreams to be everyone and everything
escapes reality and drowns in hate, she’s a freak
just exists while being nothing”

became rebel, all i did was to hate
became depressed, its the way of life says “checkmate”
felt humbled down, made peace with the dark
in the dark, traces of mistakes leave no mark
no one can see the blood flowing from me
and the bloody stake in my hand

“broken mirrors, dead raven, she was her worst poem
if she was to be a poem, she would lack title
either hysterical or numb, she feels suicidal”

“refuses to be herself, she’s in denial
even if she wanted to be she wouldn't know how, a vicious cycle”

where is my identity? i hate this
lost the lottery and now i dont have something i miss
the only thing left of me is the shape my armor takes around my soul
inside of it is just blank, i cant feel whole

life is math, all i do is to think things out of cowardice
planning through is my only weapon, im powerless
i try to control every situation because i know im weak against fate
but it would be terrible to surrender myself to uncertainty, so i sit and hate
prefering the illusion of small possibilities to the horror of uncertainty
don't know how much longer i can carry this weight