Stressful Times

I keep trying to fill up the empty space
but nothing ever seems to take its place

Nothing ever seems to be good enough
But I keep trying, though it makes life more rough

I'm worried that I will never be satisfied
Even though I will try and try

I'm tired all the time
Somehow that feels like a crime

I get annoyed very quickly
And I feel like that's bad
But how am I so annoyed
When I am also so sad

I spend my time looking forward
I rarely focus on the present
I believe that it's a bright future I'm looking toward
But perhaps I will just end up another peasant

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