It always seems... wrong.
As if there is a void, an empty space, a hole you might call it.
And I’ll have nothing to fill it with.
And I’ll end up falling in the hole, the hole of despair.
And I’ll probably fight, struggle to get out.
But thoughts will come to my head.
To my mind, and they will tell me to give up, to stop trying.
And I will stop.
I will believe that they’re right.
And I will give up.
I’ll let go.
And I’ll stay there, in the hole of despair,
In my prison,