there are days i wish i were normal

just like everybody else

and didn’t have to worry

about eternal consequences

because skin-deep

is all that matters

then i wonder

what it feels like

to not have a purpose

nothing drawing

your soul higher

no real reason for living

besides power, fame

money or the love

of women —

emptiness, really

utter loneliness?

only a veneer to hide

behind —

a mask to keep reality in

then i start to wonder

whether normal

if this is what it’s considered

could ever be worth sacrificing

the pain of love

and the joy of dying


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