Pen it down, they say,
but then who’s there to listen?
Who’s there to listen and not judge?
Not call me crazy or mad?
Away you ugly thoughts,
go torment those who are more deserving.
they seem weak they crumble
one stone after the other down they fall.
Who’s there to see me
at the corner of the dark room
who will stretch out their hand for me
I’m i even deserving of this world
or I’m i just an entity that comes and goes
only to be forgotten easily
why then should I struggle so
I dance in the dark in my own tears
trying to tell myself,
my story is not over yet
but deep down I can feel it
I know it’s the end
its just a matter of………