pathetic

pathetic;
not because i am, but rather because i feel.
i feel a surge of emotions and its not like i can control it.

like electric currents in my body that cant find the outlet,
the emotions circles my body,
wraps around me,
and suffocates me.

rather than feeling sad, i feel scared.
the uncertain future, the impending danger.

the jealousy that people are coping well, coping better,
and the envy i have for those who rests.

the disappointment i feel, as i become a second choice,
not only to others, but especially my soul.
the bitterness i feel, as i know all are just empty words, and nobody genuinely meant any of it.

the tiredness that is in my bone,
that engulfs me anytime, even now, at this very moment.

the doubt i have for myself, or rather, the certainty that i am useless.
i'm sorry, for all.
i'm sorry i am not strong, sorry i'm so vulnerable.
i'm sorry that i feel so apologetic but never once properly apologized
i'm sorry... that...
i'm just sorry for everything. too much a coward to leave,  but not tough enough to stay.

and thankyou...

旁观者

not born to be silent,

but taught

spectators of the act,

victims when acting it

it's the price to pay to get the money piling

big city, bills, basic

all dem b but bill's just another ringleader

move along, muzzle

talking to the moon, that's what you mute kids do best

aspirin's earning big bucks,

the bills they swimming in,

coming from the sweat drowning me 

happening as i desperately inch to be independent

coincidentally a synonym for inhaling the pills 

we're all just bystanders,

digging our graves as we gaze 

born with eyes, but rather not see

born with mouths, but rather not utter

as long as we're not the victims,

it's alright.

we're just spectators, we'll clap, give our support and leave.

as long as we're not the ones fooled in the circus.

except,

my condolences, we are.

what comes around goes around.

Doće maca na vratanca

lost child

lost child
where i am from,
anxiety run through my veins
it's what keep me running
keep me high on adrenaline

some call it pain
we call it sweet agony

good lord help me
go wherever, however you want it

show me the plan
i vouch i'll be a victor

aspirin, my bystander
let's be happy
that's what that homie breathed
yet what he call soul
is just my broken mind that cant relate

high on trepidation,
double x, xy, no xyz
that's the feels of the wights

genuine tranquility,
quand les poules auront des dents