It's anxiety, these miserable feelings
Im drown myself in ocean of obscure
My heart-shaped box inevitable beating
From struggle, senses were no pure
Like fish on shore, despair move in vain
Life has no meaning, there's no cure
There's only pain
My hopeless mind imprisoned,
My files corrupted
Is it been a self defense ?
Or hatred with offence ?
Self harmful - this is be my nickname
I'm slowly dying from these process again
Perfection - these is just a game
But i can't clicks on pause and doesn't have replay
My button mashing doesn't help, i am not the same
And there's no exit, there's no joy or pay
Life is a theatre of pain
My mask like stoked glass
Im Pierrot through pierced from the rain
I should let go to pass
I should let go, to feel myself again
Theatre of pain
© Copyright: Илья Ушанов, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124030807044
Свидетельство о публикации №124030807044
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