Why I'm I alive? Why I'm I here?
I'm I supposed to be here? Why does everything
seem wrong, like I try my best
but everything doesn't seem to come out right
like a mystery crime scene trying to figure out why
and what happens.
Why does this make me feel ashamed of myself?
Why? Maybe the crime scene wasn't detailed enough
for me to figure out the What or the Why.
Does my lonely history lead me to not
collaborate with what I see in my mind.
Lost in my world where
I can barely even function, thinking of how lonely I'm
and ashamed of myself that I can't figure the What either
The Why. That it makes me question why I'm here
if I can't even figure out why and what happened in the crime
scene?
Am I worthy enough to be here? Why can't I do anything right? Why?
What my purpose? I'm capable of figuring out the why and the what?
I'm I?
Update- December 6, 2019