Writing is purging. I have a lot to purge. What do you call it? Aaah yes, catharsis. Emotional catharsis, this is mine.
I have a lot of anger towards this country. The way it works. Actually more so because of the way it doesn’t work. It is not safe. It is not clean. It is not happy. But we are forced to believe it is so. And accept it as it is. And just live with this crumbling system.
Fear of not doing things I should.
Fear of doing things I shouldn’t
Fear of not going anywhere
Fear that I’m supposed to be elsewhere
I’m sad that I cant make my parents happy
Sad that I’m not earning
Sad that I’m always yearning
So sad my heart is burning
I’m doing it again, shit, I’m rhyming.
Longing to be somebody
Longing to be with somebody
Longing to be somewhere
Longing to be somewhere with somebody
Longing for all this crap to end
Or at least share this crap with someone
Who can help me believe maybe it’s not that crappy after all.