I Don’t Want To Be Me.

What’s the point? Nothing is worth all this,
The pain, The tears,
The warmth I yearn for on the most blistering days.
The loveless feeling that washes over me, drowning me.
The detest I have for everything on this dammed earth.
Including me. Especially me.

I don’t mean to be the way I am…
The way people stare, like I’m some anomalous person.
When I try so hard to fit into this homogenous society
With every single one of them a bellwether,
Whilst I’m just trailing behind them,
Barely able to see past all this gloom
Where hushed whispers prevail,
Sneaking in, leaving trails behind of vulgar things,
That take root and grow and grow and grow,
Until there so gargantuan that I can’t take it anymore.

I don’t mean to be the way I am…
No one hears my screams as I descend to an icy hell.
Or maybe they can but they just don’t care, who would?

I don’t want to be the way I am.
Tired of living, Scared of death.
So I still smile and laugh.
But it doesn’t mean I’m not what I am.

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