the world is cruel

the world is ugly

and yet here we are

another cog in the machine, another body to bury

we don't realize the sadness of this until much later

but maybe you now realize

the world will kick you, beat you, and scold you endlessly

but you don't have to curl up into a ball and take it

you can beat the world

it just takes some effort

maybe someone said or did something

something that hurt you, deep inside

i don't know, and the chances of me knowing are slim to none

love is real for some people

not for me

it stands across a ten foot gap thats a hundred feet deep

love spits in my face

love hates me, and yet i want it

like an abusive relationship, i chase what i cannot find

like a needle in a haystack

pointless right?

why am i writing this

i have no clue

i am just going

we really are cogs in a machine

its just one cog breaks out sometimes and makes a difference

and we look up to that cog

we are told to be like that cog like its the messiah

but being a cog in the machine is nice

i have no concerns or worries

and yet my head fills with screams of voices i have never heard

i have a drawing

the drawing is good

it reminds me of a time of fear love and anxiety

why do i chase after this idea

this thought that if i am like the cog that breaks from the machine everything will be better

is it a cycle? is it life?

once i laid in the stars

talking and laughing with other cogs about our dreams

it was nice

i liked that night

but now i never haven nights like that

because of the concrete jungle i exist in

but i like this jungle

i prefer it to the outside

but i want to leave and stay

how odd

people hate, people love

its pointless in the end right

we all die

some people are men

some people are female

some people are hypocrites

some people are 'smart'

some people are 'successes'

i am told to be like the 'smart' and to be like the 'success'

but that is not who i am