Struggling with life.

Trying to maintain anonymity.

Reaching irrational conclusions.

Living an ineffectual life.

No desires.

No significance.

Blasting music to cure my symptoms.

Being distant from the fantasy parade.

Lodged in a screaming inferno.

Passing through the monotonous woe.

Wondering, When did it all start?

The doomsday.

The ticking of the metronome.

The mindless aggressions of my conditioned perceptions.

Demons, invading my independence.

Sometimes I think how I became this.

Maybe I just wanted to survive the catastrophe.

Survive from my losses.

Survive from my monsters.

Survive from myself.

Now, I think maybe life isn’t all about living.

It is just about Survival.


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