And I want to be so lonely
that i start to live again.
that i start to see again.
I just want you to bloody get out!
Please get out
'How do you do?' You ask me.
I dont bloody know!
Confused, guilty, angry, hurt, tiered and even shocked may be;
but 'I am fine', I say
and you carry on.
I feel like a half worn off sticker on the door;
neither completely in nor out.
Stuck somewhere between,
what only seems like the parody of life.
No, I am not sick,
but i am sick of this world.
No, not of my life,
but of those who partake in it.
'I need help', you say,
while you shamelessly take away,
every drop of me.
Its a world of scoundrels!
Of which, thou shall never let me forget.
I rest in peace,
in knowing I have been right all along,
in taming this monster within me,
so dearly known as heart.