What is this, this feeling
It makes no sense, this feeling.
I feel as though I am watching
Myself from outside my body.
Why am I in constant battle
With myself, in a war
That I’m on the losing side of?
The outside world is so full
Of sunshine and breeze.
So why does it hurt
As I sit inside and remind myself
That I can breathe?
What is that feeling,
Knowing the Earth is turning,
Knowing people keep living,
Always hearing the birds singing.
That there is no difference
Outside this dark corner of my room
Where light surpasses my soul
Into a black hole in my mind.
What is that feeling?
Where it is impossible
To keep turning,
To be one of the living.
To hate the bird singing.
I know it now
And forever, as it will come to be.
It is the feeling
That keeps me here.
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