I am tired of repeating the same questions over again,
And I am growing tired with my relationship with this pen,
It doesn’t allow me to sleep and it doesn’t allow me to escape,
Instead it only digs me further into this state,
A place of denial and a place of trial,
Appearing to be on loop for me no matter how hard I try,
Encouraging me to resonate with this feeling of unrest from which I try to hide.
I have paired my pen with actions of detriment,
And I stay simultaneously stay stoned for the cause of my petulance.
I can’t seem to shake this sense of denial,
And I wake to a unshakable feeling of desire,
To be someone else completely,
And forget the place that I have chosen to be,
Because I am no longer satisfied with just being me,
And that is plain enough for anyone to see —
Except for me.
Because I keep my life on an infinite loop,
Of frustration and contradiction and I always seem to dig my heels in,
And resist this change and refute my progress,
So that I am left with nothing but a desire to have less,
Less of a mind and less of a conscious,
Less of a feeling that life is something I’ve missed,
Less of a guilt that I could do more with my life,
Less of a focus on nothing less than strife.
I want to struggle and I want to complain,
And I want to do it all in vain,
Because all I seem to want to brag about is my inability to relate to this life that was handed to me,
And the reflection in the mirror that I continue to see.
I never truly want to be satisfied,
And the escape that I am truly seeking is to die,
To find the release that I have been looking for,
And finally be able to turn around and close the door,
To this life that has brought so much struggle,
And the way it continues to pull me through the muddle.
I am seeking an end,
And I am craving a friend,
And it only continues to become more apparent the longer I wield this pen.