My pen is running out of ink,
Behaving like asylum, anhedonic,
The more I pull the more I sink,
Not a life anymore it's a second Titanic.

Acting as a savior of humanity,
All I got was hatred sorrow and mockery,
In rewards I was gifted with disruption,
Every single decision I made was arbitrary.

Now the tables have turned,
I'm no more interested in Godly acts,
Every lesson I have learned
Calls me sinner in every dialects.

I'm jotting the dead sentiments,
Something I was deprived of
Ran out of every existing amends,
It's a dead end here now. It's a Stop.

© lonewolf