Twenty Five

It's an old poem. But then again, everything here is old.

It's getting harder and harder

To breath 

To stay awake
To get out of bed
To stay alive
To get things done
To wash this face
To give a fuck

It's been  a while
Since I told some tales
Everything's in a pile
A pile of wails

It's been harder and harder
Just to move the lid 
Where's all the ardour
That I had when I was a kid
There is no life
Left in this body
Nothing feels alive
It just feels heavy
It won't move away
From this stone-hard bed
My soul's been astray 
Just like the dead
These feelings I tried so hard
To disregard
Instead
I'm falling apart

Everyday, it keeps draining
I started forgetting
Am I breathing 
So I tried to stop thinking
And started doing
Anything
To keep my mind off things
Although everything is really tiring
I have to care
To atleast care
But when I do
There's this thing
That's always been there
And it hurts 
For no reason
It's painful
So...
 

So painful...


It did not make any sense 
It never did
I don't even have any clue
I really don't know what to do
I'm just tired
With this pain
With nothing to explain

I've promised I wouldn't 
Do things I shouldn't 
But there are times I didn't 
Realize that I haven't 
Been there, I just couldn't


Why don't I care like I used to? 

- wolf