At timee I wonder if I'm the problem,
else why'd everything go wrong in my life?
Why else for a pinch of happiness I'd be left starving on the road,
explain those with filled stomachs that why i go overboard,
why I fear my own and ponder over every thorn.
Maybe if I tried a little harder to prove,
that I'm grown up enough to grove,
then maybe, maybe I'd be allowed to live.
But in all the list of maybes I wish;
to be the same as I am yet have all the love.
Is it really so hard to love my kind?
did I really asked for too much? oh maybe yes I did.
For being such an ugly immature I deserve this pit.
But how shall I make it better? how do I escape the darkness to finally embrace the sun?
Too many questions, well answers are none.
I suppose it implies striving forever until death will be no fun.

© bhavya_sheisvintage