wonder.
Sometimes I can't help but wonder how rotten my contemplations and soul have become. I wonder where my moral compass is pointing. Have I no more sympathy no more empathy for my kind?
The things that I've built up as an aversion from the eyes of people, my barricade to hide, I wonder if it has become the things that rot me to death? I think my soul is reeking quite badly and I've no idea how to fix it. I wonder if it would be better if I stop suppressing myself? If it would be better to just tell someone all? If it would be better if I just bawl my eyes out without fear of embarrassment or pity?
It said right. All the smiles and innocent looks and talks, they would rot me to death; would never be a part out of me again. I would ever get stuck with it. And I can never open my heart, can never trust, can never believe, can never love.
Or I wonder if I'm just being too pessimistic that I never would let myself get a chance to speak?
The things that I've built up as an aversion from the eyes of people, my barricade to hide, I wonder if it has become the things that rot me to death? I think my soul is reeking quite badly and I've no idea how to fix it. I wonder if it would be better if I stop suppressing myself? If it would be better to just tell someone all? If it would be better if I just bawl my eyes out without fear of embarrassment or pity?
It said right. All the smiles and innocent looks and talks, they would rot me to death; would never be a part out of me again. I would ever get stuck with it. And I can never open my heart, can never trust, can never believe, can never love.
Or I wonder if I'm just being too pessimistic that I never would let myself get a chance to speak?
Comments
Post a Comment