Useless

I’m sure I had a purpose once, well I think that’s what that feeling of hope was. Now I lay here lifeless and useless, unaware of the blur of life, filled with an abundant prolific amount of pain. I’m sure I had a purpose once, well I think that’s what that feeling of hope was. Now I sit here with a hurricane of thoughts, all is chaos and all I can manage to do is to spew out senseless talk unable to stop the faucet of my mouth. I’m too weak for that … I’m sure I had a purpose once, well I think that’s what that feeling of hope was. Now I lie to acquaintances regarding frivolous things like ‘what I did in the weekend’ and ‘I’m fine’ and ‘ yes I’m sure’. I’m sure I had a purpose once, well I think that’s what that feeling of hope was. Now all I am is an overflowing overthinking intensity mixed with paranoia state- forced to discretely wipe my tears in hope… that’s the only glimmer of hope I have now, hope for all the questions to stop, all of the eyes to stop looking.

But all I can do is let out silent cries for help. Laying in my bed cold and drained of all expectations and desire.

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