Wasteland


I myself am stitched together with imperfections
Like scribbled pen marks hiding mistakes
I by no means am close to the idea of who I should be
Or who I want to be
Overflowing with passions and ideas
Bursting with creativity
But suppressed by the cruelty of others
The tragic truth of the reality we all live in and have created
Continues to unimpress me
It suffocates me like water in my lungs
The ignorance and disrespect of people ceases to surprise me
I battle myself and my mind, but no longer is my mind mine
It becomes a deteriorated mess
With ideas and information of which the media has created
I only think what they want me to
A brainwashing nonetheless
The struggle of heartache and the past haunt me each night
Creeping over me like a thief in the night
Coming to steal fragments of happiness
I've collected throughout the day
My heart and mind silently fall into an emptiness
Where it all collapses
Murdered by my own mind
Swallowed by the darkness
What a tragedy I force upon myself

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