Darkness descends,
and crushing loneliness
becomes my cage.
Fine is just perfect…
fucked up
insecure
neurotic and
emotional.
The future,
just a feeling
put on hold.
Nothing will ever
turn out finer…
Fucked up
insecure
neurotic and
emotional but
recovered.
The biology demons
are strong.
Hope becomes
an illusion,
a sinister lie.
One entrenched deep
in every nook
of me with every
slide black.
It’s happiness
not easily found.
This
my undeniable
state.
Trapped in my head,
a life controlled
not by me,
watching this
play out indiscriminately.
Controlling very little,
only breaking down.
Further
and faster
to my end.
The cost of living is expensive.
**This is not my current state. Don’t worry.
