What’s wrong with me?

When days aren’t even a mundane routine, not even a God Bless interesting
I really feel emptiness fill the emptiness
I know my purpose but I can’t grasp my reasons
I can’t understand the swing under my darkening eyes
I know nothing less than a prey nothing more than a predator

When ways meant to be seen, not even a light passing
I’m exited over nothing, I cried over nothing
I saw myself rambling in the dark
Knowing less than a blind luck walking on a bridging skies
I fly nothing slower than a bird nothing faster than a bise

When a lie staring deep the truth can hardly stand
Both my feet are shaking, I am no dancing king
My woe is the making of luck
My draw’s a hideous tuck playing endless in the nights
I heed nothing less than a mother, nothing better than a maid

When lone is a gruesome teacher hitting and screaming
The hum is comforting nor hurting but cunning
Grudge isn’t an innate friend ’till then
Anger isn’t an act of sane of man of peace
I wish nothing less then heaven on earth nothing more than despair of hope.

[I wrote this myself…just now]