Content

I hate reality.
Too many responsibilities
Too much truth
Too much fear
Too much anguish.
Not enough happiness

I love to dream
I used to
Too much reality

Feels as though I'm drowning in my own distress
But there is only desolation around me
Dreams are a numb subconsciousness of what reality could be

Content.
Not happy
Not sad.
Just wishing I was in the middle


So I fantasize.
But Fantasy becomes taunting


More fear.
More sadness
Continuously content.