(no subject)
Why is life so hard to bear?
Why don’t people ever care?
Hiding the truth behind my tears
Only creates and induces fears.
A fear of loneliness and loss,
Of always bearing my own cross.
A caring soul is hard to find,
Especially when your own soul begs to be blind.
Blind to the happiness that can be found in life.
Blind to the optimism; it’s like a knife.
Cutting away at all that upsets me
Revealing below all that is happy.
The cheeriness is what throws me off
It’s similar to an unending cough.
Although your life may not have been great before it,
You just want it to end; all you do is abhor it.
That is the thought that has recently haunted,
And I’ll admit my life’s not what I had wanted.
It is what I, myself, have created
But to change it now seems quite overrated.
I love the darkness, don’t you see?
The pain is real, but it’s also me.
Because without it, I couldn’t live
And without a life, what could I give?
I’d have nothing to offer anyone.
Without my darkness, there would be no sun.
Why don’t people ever care?
Hiding the truth behind my tears
Only creates and induces fears.
A fear of loneliness and loss,
Of always bearing my own cross.
A caring soul is hard to find,
Especially when your own soul begs to be blind.
Blind to the happiness that can be found in life.
Blind to the optimism; it’s like a knife.
Cutting away at all that upsets me
Revealing below all that is happy.
The cheeriness is what throws me off
It’s similar to an unending cough.
Although your life may not have been great before it,
You just want it to end; all you do is abhor it.
That is the thought that has recently haunted,
And I’ll admit my life’s not what I had wanted.
It is what I, myself, have created
But to change it now seems quite overrated.
I love the darkness, don’t you see?
The pain is real, but it’s also me.
Because without it, I couldn’t live
And without a life, what could I give?
I’d have nothing to offer anyone.
Without my darkness, there would be no sun.