I guess I look at the stars to beg them to take me away.
Send me on a journey that keeps me preoccupied from my hell.
I'm always writing sad things.
It only makes it worse,
But I need to share my emotions.
If I don't,
I tend to be explosive.
Bottling them up.
I don't know much beyond the feeling called "Sad,"
But I try to learn.
Maybe I'm learning too much too fast.
I keep learning to take the edge off.
I hurt all the time,
But I work through it somehow?
No.
I stow it away.
I hide it all behind a locked door and a pillow to my face.
I'm angry.
Maybe nothing will ever change.
Maybe something will,
But not for a long time.
That hurts to hear.
But I suppose people hear worse all the time.
It's almost always quiet here.
I do love that.
Sometimes.
Other times,
It just makes me lonelier.
I don't ever expect to find someone to share the burden I carry because how would that be fair?
I'm just a burden to carry.
Nothing more.
I'm too screwed up.
I'm not beautiful,
And I never will be.
Even if I was,
There will always be someone who does something better.
Always.
And that makes me sad because I know that no one wants second best.
Winners don't take second place.
So I prepare myself for a life of sadness and loneliness,
Or I prepare for nothing.
Is it worth fighting for?
Living?
So far,
I've found it's only pain and hurt and tears.
The will to live be damned.
I keep singing my Anthem of the Burdens till I'm naught.
