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Swapnil Singh



Swapnil Singh




1 min 281 1 min 281

I'm stuck in a cycle,

Of all the dread, uncertainty, and disgrace that dissolves away at me,

Debasing whatever trust was left,

Like a castaway stuck adrift.

Gracious what I would provide for have a reason,

Motivation to need to be alive,

Getting a new line of work with this economy,

Resembles stuffing your turn in a colony.

Long periods of experience is the thing that individuals need,

Goodness, what I wish to accomplish,

Yet, how might I do that?

With no cash for school at my disposal.

I'm tired of being derided,

For something I can't control,

"You're a freeloader, futile, silly"

Words do incur significant damage.

I miss being youthful and imbecilic,

Too little to even consider knowing what lies ahead,

Coddled, washed, and thought about,

Presently I'm in an ideal situation dead.

Too old to even think about being thought about,

Unreasonably youthful for the experience of work,

I'm so weary of living this way,

Scarcely ready to gobble as I get the fork.

How simple it is end everything,

Be free of this jail called life,

Basic as locking back to point,

Or on the other hand, getting that blade.

Just 18, and only a weight,

To everybody around,

I simply wish somebody would get it,

Be that as it may,

I simply observe everybody breathing while I inside suffocate.

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