Another poem, not wriiten by me, found somewhere in cyberspace
I’ve emptied out
All forms of expression
Picking up
Little bits of depression
Water deep enough to take a dive
I’m breathing but I’m not alive
I hit so low
Nothing gets me inspired
I’ve done nothing
And already so tired
Sleep has beaten the living-strive
I’m breathing but I’m not alive
Apocalypse outside
Will not penetrate my bed
It’s never as loud
As the silence in my head
Thirsty for pain to feel revived
I’m breathing but I’m not alive
Real feelings never will arrive
I’m breathing but I’m not alive
