Am I

64 3 0
                                    

What am I? Who am I?

Questions I always ask.
An existential dread that's more than meets the eye,
with other questions in our opened cask.

I am, and not, nothing.

A teardrop. One of life's plaything.
A kind that everyone trusts in a flash,
Though, I see myself as nothing but a trash.

Is it Self-loathe? Self-deprecation?
An act to start a global manipulation?
A mask to hide the creeping madness?
Your boring truth meets my boring happiness

I don't subvert expectations

And I don't expect expectations

.
I don't fall for pitiful temptation through imaginations.
I am lost, with nothing to go in a lifeless mission.

An end to this sophomore melody
Is a hopeful  but bleak poetry.
If I seize myself, knowing I had a friend with me,
The promises laid out to me, then I will never be free.


[Insert Title Here] Volume 100Tempat cerita menjadi hidup. Temukan sekarang