Confused indeed I am.
Lingering the moment which I know nothing about. Kinda like Jon Snow.
Trying hard. Yes it's in the affirmative.
But every time I tried I end up failing.
It was like, Fuck I'm old,
But the misery won't end.
For every shit I told
I get more than a thousand fold.
I miss writing, I miss my co-writers as well.
As fast as we build, goes fast as we fell.
I tried writing so many times. Trying to get at least a portion of that old self
But it ends up unfinished, like the governments crap
I don't know where I'm going.
I'm not even sure if I'm aware of what I'm writing.
I'm just here, glaring with a blank stare
Save me. At least I say.
I'm tired with my burden
I'm even too tired to say I hate life.
I work, I play. Without anything to gain
What am I sitting here for?
Damn, I don't know where I am.
