Lost

They do not see,
What I see.
They do not hear,
What I hear.
They do not feel,
What I feel.
They do not understand.
They do not feel
The pain in me.

The rage contained has reached
Its breaking point.
The want to end my life,
But, for of death,
I hold on.
My grip on sanity
Is slipping away.
My life is just a spinning ball.
My words are meaningless.

I feel like a nuisance to all.

The pain in me is breaking out,
The rage inside has reached the surface.
The hatred and spite for all,
Is creeping out from under my skin.
I hate to live, but fear my death.
I want to kill, but cannot for shame.
I hate this world, but love it so.

“What am I to do?” I ask myself.
The thought in my mind,
They scare me so,
The hate in my chest,
Is hurting me.

My heart, it says to end it all,
But I have lost all faith in it.
My mind it says to let it pass
But I ask myself,
“What does my mind know?”

I feel like life is bleak,
Like a blank paper of white
There seems to be nothing on it.

But then again I ask myself,
“Isn’t but white made-up
Of all the colours combined?”
So is this bleakness just,
A myriad of colours entwined?
Am I just lost in this world,
Just too confused to see it’s hues?
Or is it just that I have lost myself.

Lost in all the colour of life.