The sound of night surrounding me,
and the violence of nonsense pinches my spirit up to levels of absurdity since then unknown.
My unsettled spirit stretches, it seeks a way to find the way back.
You can’t help me.
I’ve given up on living, I’ve rejected the path I was heading to.
Where’s my life?
I’m sorry to be such a fool,
to cry every day for the misfortunes I had to face.
I’ve built a wall of illusion to shield my deep feelings.
Two different languages.
Problems devastating my brain.
I’m ashamed of the person I am,
everyday, everyday, everyday.
And you tell me I don’t have problems, that I don’t have to face such issues.
Well you don’t understand anything,
you cut my skin, and of course I’m not angry enough to react.
I’m always the dog you used to beat.
Who am I?