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How ironic [easier said than done]
Tossing, tunring
not sleeping right
Coughing burning
Smoking, not eating right
Not feeding myself, mentally, spiritually or otherwise
Not knowing right
Crying at nights my pillow is always wet
Because past people and faces I cannot forget
I have not discovered my purpose yet
Alone and lost in so much despair
I have family who talks about but is never actually there
They pressure me to be a "perfect" person
And at the impossibility of this I crumble into pieces
Each time trying to pick myself up and put back the pieces together
To then see if I can be a normal healthy person
But I always fail
The hopelessness comes in
The hopelessness resides in my heart
It seems me and the hoplessness shall never part
And how ironic the only way for the hopelessness to leave is for me to believe
And for me to hope again
Yes! how ironic
Easier said than done.
