>SiCk Life<

I'm SICK. ReaLly siCk.

I'm sick and tired of the same old stuff.
Nothing I do ever seems enough.
I do not want to try to please.
I'm desperately seeking for a release.

I want to get out of this mess.
SiCk and TireD.
I need rest!

EVery sickly week I go;
WIth a heavy heart that's filled with sorrow.
I hate to think what holds of my tomorrow.
Please tell me that the mask of happiness;
Is always around for me to borrow.

It's utterly evident,
how little I seem.
to those who never seek to listen or see.
Man, they're mean!

My efforts are obviously passed of,
as a mere attempt;
to try to make up for some occasion then.
Even if it were not so,
am I but a puppet?
COntrolled by strings?
I understand the feelings of the last Manchurian King;
And that of teenagers who get sidelined because they are lack of something.
A second.
Aren't i a teenager?
Whatever.

I'm sick, so sick,
of the moan and drone.
of my sickly life.
I live with an aimless purpose.
And am surrounded by cold friendliness.
I feel this sombre happiness.
Never true, free-willed happiness.

I can never seem to laugh out heartily,
without feeling the bitterness that follows.
I sound like such a tragic soul.
Yet am I?

Aquaintances,Comrades;
They are just a passing phase in your life.
They trotter along the circumference of your world.

Cliques.
If you are in it,
you're a happy man;
For being able to feel accepted;
For sharing an identity.
If you are in it,
you are a sad soul;
For allowing yourself to be bound within that small circle;
Sometimes, doing things that you feel compelled to,
but never really expressing any real interest in.

Cliques.
If you're out of it,
you're a lonely man;
For not haveing a group of friends to always hang out with.
If you're out of it,
you are a happier man;
For being intelligent enough to choose the wings of freedom-
that of a social butterfly.

I detest cliques, seriously.
The whole irony of it is that,
I think I'm in one.
but,
isn't it just natural?
I mean,
won't life be boring without having that group of friends?
Yes.
I admit.
I probably can't live without my 'base home'.
It'll drive me crazy.
And more sickly.
But I yearn for release.
From the seven-letter-word beginning with the letter "C"
Coz right now,
I'm being hurt by it down in the dumps.
I'm sick. So sick.
That I can hardly breathe.
Someone,
send for me a flower wreath.

Sickly, foolish, careless me.
When can I start live life,
heck the worries,
heck the endless depressing memories,
And just be,
as happy as can be?