I lie awake as I wonder and flounder.
I mumble to my soul, baffled by my memory.
I try to unriddle this puzzle, yet in vain.

‘Afraid to live, what a way to exist….’
I often seem nearly invisible.
My incomplete and fragile presence
will make no impact on life’s essence.

Sometimes I feel trapped in a hallucination.
Will there be a day when I have illumination?
Those mediocre days, each senseless and unclear.
The labour that I face leaves me with nothing but fear.
Fear for what is there beyond, dreading my oblivion.
Everything I earned... from them I learned
my dull existence and sublime ignorance.

Lucid nightmares

This is the endgame of the atrocious tragedy.
My self-repression ideas, ideals…, none of them matters.
They are ephemeral.
The evanescence isn’t mere symbolic.
Status: still waiting with misgivings, suffering from withdrawal…

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