Lack of inspiration and a blank mind
contribute to my jaded existence.
I want to feel, I want to care,
but a lack of fucks is always there.
Feeling like a sociopath,
Forever in a state of disillusionment.
Wanting to be left alone,
Yet feeling so lonely.
I am my enemy,
I am my demise.
They want to know me and what I feel,
But there’s nothing there to share.
Anger becoming more prevalent,
Snapping at those whom I hold dear.
Joy, although present, seems stifled,
Mixed up in all this madness.
So much to be grateful for,
Yet I can’t seem to be happy with it.
Just a day to day existence,
Struggling to wake in the morning.
Struggling to find the end of day.
Struggling to drift off to sleep.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.