Can you hear it? This silent beat of mine?

Slowly drowning in the white noise of the crowd

Not a trace left, not a sound to resonate with.

For it’s all gone, is buried without trace

Like emotions left to rot after being branded as fake

Or they all bleed, for the stitch is weak, so easy to break with just few words aimed

Straight into the heart, slipping in the mind

Leading to a painful fall.

Therefore I ask: “Is this my task?

Was I born to be a mindless punching bag?

WILL I MAKE A MOVE?

Can’t seem to care now, so why should I?”

WRONG!

The smile I wear, a pretty decoration made by years of mistakes, heart-pain, drama

Which thought me not to bother and go down with my flow……

Felt it before, I’ll feel it again be it love or something else, the world goes on.

So why stop at crying and give a damn?

To move on is not to forget what started it in the first place, no.

Try deny it, will bite you back,

Try to fight it, will bring more pain.

For it’s all you, gotta deal with some blame

When all that you do is sit in the sidelines

Like LIFE will ever care.

Guess what? It doesn’t!

You’re both fool and king in its game.

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Before anyone asks, the answer is no. 

No, I'm not some junkie who decided writting would be fun.

No, I'm not an alchoolic who whines throgh poetry.

If there are any grammar mistakes is because I didn't reread it.

Ok, now you can move on with your lives. I'm out......

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I.AM.STILL.NOT.DEAD.DAMN.IT!

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Only my sense of humor, R.I.P. to that.