The Hope is a Lie

Just this.

I'm overwhelmed with frustration
Because the world puts a lot of pressure on me
to DO, to BE.
And I spend all my time coping.

The music, the sleeping, the reading
is all an intricate wind-down
From the tragedies and torments of the day
No time to prepare
For tomorrow's mishaps.

There's no time
for me to BECOME

There's no DESIRE
for me to become.
Isn't existing enough?
Why does the Universe demand more?

What're the rules?
Am I allowed to sit
and disintegrate?
Or is there a better fate?
Can I watch others
Become great?
And be their support system
Instead of hate?
What are my options?


The hope is a lie.
The hope is something created
In the minds of those
Who believe in something better.

There is nothing better
than the serenity of music tones
and comforting words
and Unconsciousness.

The hope is a lie.