To me, life is a road I keep walking on. Even though i yearn for my legs to stop walking, they don't stop.

     Sometimes I look in to the sky. I appreciate the beauty of the stars and the moon often pondering if maybe, one day, I'll join them. 

    Becoming a single drop of water on a vast sea or being so little I am no longer noticed is something I find confort in thinking about. 

    If I ever were to walk on burning hot charcoal pavement I would do it so willingly. 

    Maybe I wasn't meant to be. Maybe I am one of many life's mistakes. 

    Being a mistake or being mistaken as someone. I wonder if I am one of these two options or I am endeed nothing at all. 

    I never was an option. If so, I would the last option. Not because I am unworthy, but because I am unlovable. People might think they know they love me, or maybe they even feel a certain amount of love towards me. Their love is but a misguided arrow, pointed towards a target that was never there to being with.

    I often dream about dying. I sometimes die thinking about dreaming that scenario. If by any chance I were to die tomorow, I would die regreting only dying a day late. 

    Not knowing when my time will be is has miserable as my thoughts, ideas, and sense of self. 

    Life is but a glutonous monster who constantly tries to swallow my soul whole as if I was ever meant to be consumed by it. 

    Dying of age would be one of many god's punishments. If I was ever loved, I no longer am. If I was every forgiven, that forgiveness is already burried underneath the tainted and poluted soil I so uneagerly sleep on.

    Oh, If I ever was brave enough to follow my gut... 

    I will feel loved only when my desire of sleeping for eterny is fulfilled. 

    My screams aren't heard by anyone and my words leave nothing but a shallow taste of dirt on people's mouths.