I think to myself,
Every time I close my eyes,
Would anybody miss me,
If I were to die?
Why am I here,
And what do I seek?
All I resemble,
Is some sort of freak.
Deeply depressed,
Am I really alive?
And if the answer is yes,
Why believe all the jive,
That my so-called friends
Try to put in my head.
Make me wish I was gone.
And want to be dead.
What good's a life
Leaving nothing behind?
No lasting meaning
To linger in time?
As tears fill my eyes
And I cry out in pain
I finally realize
This life is in vain.
People project their convictions
What they think of as "me".
And send down to Hades
What I really might be.
A blank screen for the mass,
And a layer of lies.
No wonder I can't live with
Who's behind my own eyes.
When I look in the mirror,
Am I in there somewhere?
Or has society defined me,
Forced me to care?
Will I ever find out
To which I am true?
Did the world that I live in
Turn my heart blue?
At the edge of my sanity,
With a razor in hand,
Who's not to say
That this, too, isn't planned?

11/27/2005

Author's Note: Inspired by I Woke Up With a Stranger, But Had Gone to Bed Alone and a long night of wondering why I feel the way I do; Is it really me, or, was I programmed by this world to be who I am? If its both, how can I tell where which part ends, and the other begins? For a sanity check, please see the folder notes on this entry's container.

Posted on 11/27/2005
Copyright © 2026 David Bauman