SLUMBER

by me

There are days when nothing seems to make any sense whatsoever
anymore
Days when the simple fact of being alive, breathing , desperately thinking
is too heavy a burden
There are nights when one thinks “ Why the hell was I even ever born?”
Then, one toys with thoughts of dying or killing

I figure death must feel bold

It must feel like drowning in a pool of icy cold water with alcohol , when
your skin is all torn by bruises and cuts and your mind just goes delirious
from such excrutiating pain

But many times, it must feel better than the conscious draining and
suffering one must endure while living through a disease, an accident or
even a terrible misfortune

To live is more often than not, to suffer

To die is more often than not, a bliss

In a world that can be so utterly unashamed and cruel and vile

It´s hard to come to terms with people´s behaviours, conceptions and
misconceptions

I, for one- let me make it clear- do not exempt myself from commiting
attrocious mistakes
And that is precisely why I often, mercilessly wish for death

In this world, all that matters is money!

I feel weak, disheartened, depressed and distressed

Fortunately, we can all pretend to be dead for a while, each night while
asleep
We can rest and dream
Renewing our stream
While being a number
But, believing we can be more
In our own solitary slumber