This World

This World

I want to leave this world.
To go back to the old one.
To the old times, when
I was always happy.

I feel tired.
I feel sick.

I say the wrong things.
People become mad at me.
I become mad at myself.
I feel sad by saying this.

I feel tired.
I feel sick.

I have many friends,
but still I feel alone.
I know many people,
but still they are strangers.

I feel tired.
I feel sick.

All I want is just a hug,
but I pretend I am strong
and say I don't need one.
All I want is some love.

I am tired.
I am sick.

I want to end this.
There is no way back,
no matter how I try.
I need to end this.

The unknown stranger,
on TV, a celebrity.

The end is coming,
I do know.
My words are just words,
I don't understand.

To jump. I feel tired to be sick.
Waiting for the friend to see the end.

"Are you sure you are OK?"
I say yes, but I don't know.
My words doesn't seem to matter anymore.
I slowly fade away.

It becomes dark.
I only see my hands.
They are writing something.
I don't know what.
I don't want to know.
I don't need to know.
I don't know to know.
I don't live to know.
I just want to be carefree again.