SICKNESS
Sometimes I wonder where am I going to land
And I get the answer “of course below mud and sand”.
I’m scared of being lonely; I want to be with the crowd
Not in the crowd, with the crowd.
Am I too eager or desperate
To escape the reality.
Making up stories and living a lie.
Gasping for truth and someone to call mine.
Running short of friends and the few I had
Made them sick and go mad, at me.
So used to loneliness, I don’t let people around me for long
And even if they want, I tell a story and they’re not yet so strong.
It stuck to me for so long
I don’t know the start and not the end either.
To my family, friends, relatives
I lie, lie and lie. I am a cheater.
But I’m good at it, nobody caught me yet
May be this is the problem.
Then, I’m not supposed to blame!.
Here I start again!, this is another of my sickness
And this is my game.
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