Comatose


I am hungry
But I do not wish to be fed.
My feet are beginning to blister
But I allow myself to be led.
My opinion is great
But I will not voice in debate.
Others can often criticize
I am afraid of the repetitive hate.
The days flash forward
But I will not open my eyes.
As life cycles I never stop to realize
Who am I?

With change comes sacrifice
And with me I do not take advice.
I walk down the street with my head down
But you will never see me with a frown.
I wear a mask, hidden by my fears
And by this my death feels ever so near.

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