I don’t know what to do,
Not anymore,
I’m the lowest I’ve ever been,
Lower than ever before,
I hold back my lonely tears all day,
To release them at night,
The depression and isolation was too strong,
And I’m too weak to fight,
I’m a few levels below just existing,
I am now just a ghost,
And the feeling of my heartbeat,
Is something I miss the most,
I am in purgatory,
A nowhere middle ground,
I am not alive nor dead,
Not pulse nor sound,
I’m empty,
Hollow and cold,
And my white flag of surrender,
Is battered, bruised and old,
I don’t need to kill myself,
Cos I’m already past death,
It would be a waste of time,
I already have nothing left,
I’m not even running on empty,
Cos I’ve already been demolished,
And the void of nothingness,
Was the last thing I kissed,
I’ve had a life filled with regrets,
Full to the brim of too many mistakes,
And I am no longer repairable,
As I’ve had to many chips and breaks,
I am hollow and vacant,
Non-existent and unreal,
An abandoned vacuum of hot air,
That is empty and unable to feel,
I’m now the bastard of nothing,
In the abyss of perdition,
A big bang of suffering,
A major fuck up collision,
I am a detachment of withdrawal,
A ghost in limbo,
Heavily floating from day to day,
Hysterically laughing for its soon to be crimbo,
I’m the bastard of nothing,
Drunk and full of tears,
Baffled and befuddled,
Of how I’ve survived 32 years,
But the bastard of nothing,
Don’t need to slice his wrists,
Cos I’m the bastard of nothing,
So I don’t even exist.


Wrote on 26/11/2022