Please read the work of a talented writer.
Surrounded by people, you live for the crowd,
You’re happy and funny and eager and loud,
They love you and hug you and scream out your name,
Inside you there’s nothing, yet who should you blame?
You’re lucky these people can’t look at your soul,
Its darkness, its taint, its color of coal,
A lonely soul, just grasping for love,
Inside your heart, your darkness you shove.
But even this crowd, these people you crave,
How many of them would visit your grave?
In trueness you’re nothing, you’re only alone,
Your demons – you fight them – you want them be gone,
And nothing still moves you, or drives you to go,
Your life has just stopped, there’s no room to grow.
You hold on to hope – a life with some joy,
A vision of greatness, too hard to destroy.
But darkness is scary, and dark is around,
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