Voiceless

I think this is not proper. I guess I should just shrug this off. And I know this is useless. Why do I have to bother? Really. I’d really wish to end this – if only I could.

I’m tired of ignoring, tired of concealing, I don’t know how to stop this pain.

I can’t help but just wonder because all there is are bits, fragments of the real thing.

And I am trapped in a case, can’t think of anything but all those days.

Why does it have to be like this? I thought we do exist.

We’ve entered a world that lies on that thin line between reality and imaginary.

Or was it just me, all through these years, am I bound in a mockery?

Will you come up one day and tell me, so to stop this insanity.

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