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
