Sometimes,
The feeling of being worthless,
Is quiet overwhelming.

My doubts about living,
Doubles everyday,
As everyday proves how useless I am,
As well as my efforts in everything.

Even the things I love to do,
Proves to be a worthless endeavor,
And they, like my dreams,
Drift in the dark abyss of hopelessness.

I smile widely,
Trying to please others,
Trying to appease others that I'm fine.

But the truth is,
I am dying inside.

Every night,
I can't help but lay in my bed and cry,
The moon an ever silent companion,
The night a dark friend,
Watching as the silent tears of pain,
The tears of loneliness and hate,
Slowly trail down my ever smiling face.

Honestly,
I just want to die.

But I can't.

Not yet.

Maybe soon.


© Enma Eden