I'm standing here,
Lost in translation,
Of my own mind,
My own antagonizing daze.
Does it matter anymore?
Do I cease to exist?
No touch, no love,
But who has it?
My self pity,
Has become bothersome,
Has become a nuisance.
For I have no interest in my past,
Yet I'm constantly surrounded by it.
Living or dying by your own hand?
If I question it then there must be some form of life in me....
I don't care.
Leave me be like the rest.
Let me rot with my own insides,
Let me merge with death.
When I die,
I will fall,
With the one I love.
For the moment there will be,
Butterflies in my stomach,
Tears will not,
Stream down my frown,
Wind will take place.
They will force me to my destiny,
With the sound of good, hugged,
Tight around my drums.
No one can save me,
That is my reality.
Nor do I.
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