I can’t get to sleep anymore,
I read a sad book,
And cry like it is my own life in that war.
I look around in myself,
I try to dig for the truth,
I try to dig for the answers,
I am only greeted by more questions,
And very slim answers.
I feel alone in myself anymore,
I know that no one outside understands.
I know they laugh at me.
I know they truly do not care.
I mean,
Why should they care?
And why should they understand?
They don’t live through my life day by day,
They don’t worry about not being able to sleep.
I doubt these people ever cry.
I cry at least every night now,
Still trying to understand the thing that has taken over.
When I speak,
It is not truly I.
When I look in the mirror,
I see nothing but flesh,
And the burnt soul within it.
I am dying to be the true me,
And trying to be me,
But my soul is to burnt.
So I must lay here at night,
And cry myself to sleep.
Nothing will ever be the same here.
I shall greatly miss the old me,
The non-caring, funny one,
And I shall grow into a depressed, lonely me.
The one no one really notices.

 
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