The quietness of this moment deafens me.
I’m in desperation of every and no desire.
I’m in present and eternal agony.
This world, it has no mercy, and I have
No fancy for it.
I live, too, just like other men,
But something just isn’t right.
I take breaths with perseverance and will,
It is not easy, to bear it all.
Sometimes I just want to stop.
I love as well, just like one and all,
But not everything is lovable.
I make routine out of walking and working,
Like a robot, a machine, a living
Model of maturity and mortality.
I give myself away, to earn praise,
To gain something I don’t need.
I too am happy and tired.
You smoke to get away, and she
Does it by alcohol.
This world is mad, and everyone in it
Must be maddened or escaping.
And in the end I have nothing to say,
Cause words are also mad,
As we create.