To be or not to be- Adolescence

It's a myth, 

A craving indeed, 

But why am I bewildered?

Why do I have all these questions that truly unwind within my soul? 

For in the beginning 

It had struck me-

What am I, 

For what do I thrive?

To be or not to be?

It's a divine feeling,

A merriment follows me; 

But suddenly I break-

Break into the dilemma 

That corners me.

It's a giggle that escapes 

To the seventh heaven,

That follows me;

But suddenly the tears flow- 

Flow into melancholy that divides me.

A sudden urge to look inside 

Continues to bug around.

There is so much to seek

With the terrible, terrible

Feeling am I bound. 

It's a myth, an undying urge, indeed, but why aren't we stable? 

Why do we, dusk till dawn, ponder upon the pressure that kills me?

For all my life

It has stuck me-

what am I, 

For what do I thrive?

To be or not to be?

It's a detrimental feeling,

A little change that follows me;

For when I speak-

Speak for the sake of it

I speak no more like it's me.

It's a opposite that feels:

It feels wrong, all the time, 

It follows me.

I can't even cope with it- 

With the one that's inside me. 

A sudden urge to give in

Continues to betray me.

Always so I want to belong 

With the faulty, faulty

That follows in thee.

It's a myth, even in my own blood, but why are they so bothered?

Why do I never discern their concern, when all they want for me is good? 

For in the end 

It will yet again strike-

what am I, 

For what do I thrive?

To be or not to be?

It's a hesitant feeling, 

A distant doubt that follows me;

For it's a mirror -

Mirror of undue desires

Maybe it's the shadow that follows me.

It's the reflection that speaks 

To the deprived soul within me 

"It always follows you

But there are always two emotions-

Emotions that would never match too."

A sudden urge to love myself 

Continues to feel astray.

Next follows the shadow- 

With the darkest color, color 

Of the eccentric soul. 

It's a myth, even within myself, but why are we so faulted? 

So young to dive, so old to live, why discern the answers? 

A halt. A pause. It's a period of stress and storm.

For it never ends 

It always strikes-

what am I, 

For what do I thrive

To be or not be?