I don’t feel right.

I don’t miss people.
I don’t find kids cute.
I don’t remember the last time I felt whole.
I only cry when it’s not personal.

I feel much.
I feel nothing.
I’m always tired.
All I do is dreaming.

I don’t want to be here.
Can’t stand missing a thing.
Been plotting to avoid fate.
Tell that to the offspring.

I can make you see.
I’d rather be in your skin.
I want to see it burn.
I do pray for peace.

The more I find,
the more they go missing.
What’s on my back?
Feels like an angry ghost.

The more it stirs
the murkier.
Be still, things shift.
Never ready, just go.

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