Special Blogsode: Empty for Me to Complain

What's bugging me? THE WORLD I guess I'm tired of the of the world the life I have the decision I'm making out the happiness to choose, the happiness I can't reach the boredome that dopes me its like a choking necklace a smothering pillow an assassin to my dream everything is like a killing machine. The 'me' between the lines, between that world The 'I' to describe for the people I speak, the people that lives The 'self' prisoned to people, chain to a caged. Honesty that hurts, for me its the happiness that exist Love is it really the greatest of all? Or just a mere random disaster? Being in an intersection of people to believe, to follow, to choose The existence of life I have is an assassination to my own being. The life I want is somewhere far from where I am right now A place that is nice, serene and wonderful A place that only in my dream exist A place hard to reach, but I want to try Tears rare to see Feelings hard to ignore Pain that haunts you Disappointment of others for you is a downfall How can I drag myself on such despair? I just don't know anymore The right of love to be wronged A nightmare is all I want to say Being tinted, being shaded, the spirit of creativity is such a mess. Me in an intersection road.