Am I supposed to feel completely exhausted as if each breath takes 1000 years
Do people truly spend their time like this
Just sitting empty, swelling with fear
Isolation would be one thing with your decision to bear your own burden
But being pushed aside constantly
Evidently stops the world from turning
The world I built
With my own two hands
My world, not yours, not theirs
The world I built
With my own two hands
My world, not yours, not theirs
To feel the world being torn by my fingers
To feel it slip, out of my reach!
It only helps an anxious pulse pound harder but no one else conveniently sees
No one can see the way my hands open and close to the beat of my heart
And no one else can feel the burning ache of pulling back to far
The world I built
With my own two hands
My world, not yours, not theirs
The world I built
With my own two hands
My world, not yours, not theirs
How does it feel to feel when you're empty?
And has anyone even given that a name?
It exists, I can love, I can laugh, and I, can cry
But inside I still feel empty
All the same
It's to look through every mirror
To pick apart each beautiful thing
But still never shed a tear over
The heavy heart, you're carrying
It's to rid yourself of sanity
To push out, all of your thoughts
To keep yourself at the brink of death
By being who you're not
The world I built
With my own two hands
My world, not yours, not theirs
It's boring, and it's pointless
And at this point, I'm getting sick of it
Cause living life through my perspective
Ends up being
Desolate