I am too young for this boredom.
This monotony kills me, maybe toxins in my chest will make me feel something. I stand in falldown, toward downfall, for the heart I wanted a shutdown, toward a raucous roar.
From heaven to underground the rise of chaos, make me God, make me symbol, symptom of a rotten dying world.
Pain, I experience it lucid, playful, I hope it doesn't make me apathetic, ludopathic. By now I feed, I don't eat, I assimilate oxygen, I don't breathe, by now I survive not live.
I am born among vivid dreams, I grow up among cynical realists, I die for tokens and gimmicks.
Sometimes I wish it was fiction, then I remember that reality is just fiction