Am I Real?


Poem:

Am I sad?

Am I mad?

Am I frustrated?

Am I lost?

Am I heart broken?

I open my eyes and sit up in my bed

Tears rolling down my face because I want to be dead

WHY AM I HERE!

Do you know?

How do you know your logic makes sense?

Just get over it, life goes on.

That saying is said over and over until we’re gone

Who are you to tell me how to feel and what to do

You’re not my creator

You’re still just a little kid that grew

You’re questioning my life but I’m questioning yours

Things that were once my happiness are all now just closed doors.

How do you know how I feel?

I thought we were all made different

Why do i have to act as if my heart is made of Steele?

Nothing makes sense anymore

The girl I told I’ll risk it all for, walked out on me

That was my heart in human form

For the past few weeks I’ve been in a hailstorm

But keep moving forward right?

That’s just life right?

I’m doing anything and everything to ease the pain

I feel like I’m already flying high and I’m not talking about a plane

My thoughts are getting clogged?

My mouth is getting dry

I start to feel like my body is self destructing while I’m still in it

As if it once belonged to me but I’m no longer a good fit

I get all the good views but i have no control in this cockpit

This has to be a dream right?

It’s no way I threw my whole life away right?

It’s no way I lost my passion for life right?

It’s no way I questions everyone’s existence including mine right?

All these questions no one has an answer

They say give it up to God but I’m still waiting on an answer.

We’re suppose to believe in someone we never seen

I can’t even believe in myself because I obviously think I’m still in a dream

I have no more tears to shed

I have no one to talk to up late nights in the bed

I’ve lost myself

I’ve lost my passion

I’ve lost hope

Why can’t I just be me, why can’t everything just work

Why is my life the same everyday like clock work

Am I real?

I have asked myself that a billion times over the last few weeks.

Just because we have life does that make us real?

Just because it’s a bible out does that make us real?

We all here trying to figure out the same question through the same transactions, dissatisfactions, distractions, and interactions

We’re suppose to be happy?

We’re suppose to find happiness while we’re living in hell

We’re suppose to be happy when people are getting killed everyday?

We’re suppose to be happy when someone you spent years with can walk out on you an instinct right?

Is that your happiness

I know it’s not mine

Feels like blows below the waist line

What’s the point of trying to live a perfect life if you will never be perfect

What’s the point of being myself if being myself will always have me being looked like a suspect

I’m in a world where I will never get respect

This is not happiness, this is not joy, this is a dark hole that sunlight shines into

But I’ll keep trying until my time is due

I have no clue and I feel like my life is starting over

All I know is once I’m dead I’ll be glad I had no do over

By: Miles Berry




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