maybe it’s not about
what i’m trying to find
and it’s not about where i’m searching
i might just be a square peg
trying to fit myself
into a round hole

i’m not made for this world
the rotting brain in my head
whispers secrets to me daily
about how i’d be better off dead
and i don’t even hang on
because i want to
i do it because i am too afraid
that if i let go
i’ll be remembered for all the things
people think i am
when in reality,
no one should cry when i’m gone

the days keep getting harder
i try to laugh
because it’s the medicine
i have the easiest access to
but the fake smiles i paste to my face
can’t replace everything i’ve lost
and all that i’ve thrown away

my potential fades more and more
each day
and i keep getting wasted
so the feelings all fade
until the sun rises again
and the past is replaced
with more of the same