I just want to cry,
But I do not know why.
I feel great sadness welling up,
A lonely wail that won't shut up.

The world has become grey.
What is the point of each day?
Why should I keep living,
When I feel less than giving?

Sometimes I feel so dead,
So quiet and still and messed up in my head,
As though I am not truly alive.
Just a body, an empty hive.

Routine is what keeps me going,
What keeps everyone else from knowing.
Habits I do without thinking,
Whilst inside I am sinking
Deeper and deeper into the sea,
A place where I am no longer me.

Always having to pretend.
When will it end?

I wish that I could just be free.
I wish that I wasn't me.