F*** It

Losing myself,
Into the abyss
Of reality itself.

Doing the things
That I do not like
Which will indirectly
Tire me out

I do not want
This life to be like this
To be consistently
Fulfilling others’

Entangled in between
Me and myself;
Reality and conscience;
I was stuck,
I could not think straight.

I stopped doing so;
I could not do so;
I am blinded.

This is a mess.

My mind,
My heart,
My soul,
My very existence,
Is a bland

Of myself,
Of me wasting
My time,
Of me wasting
My efforts.

Why am I still doing this?
Why am I still here?
Is it just to suffer?

Fuck it.

I have enough.

I have enough of
All these bullshit
That I am doing
For the sake of doing.

Think. Do not be rash.
Just think about it.
If you cannot pull this out,
How can you secure your future?

The inner me was making,
Talking sense into me,
The lost me,
The messy me,
The dead me.

“I’m tired.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Doing all of these,
Just tire me out,
It does not make me happy,
Nor making my health better.”

“I’m just so fed up
With all of these,
Can I just let go?”

“This really did murder me.”

“I have lost the sense
Of being alive.”

“Fuck it.”

“Fuck it.”

“Fuck it.”

Craving for more? Down below:
What’s The Point?
Overwhelmingly Overwhelmed.
Cloudy Perspective
Fallen Angel

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

9 thoughts on “F*** It

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