So often I have tried,
So painstakingly and desperately,
So many times I should have died,
Yet Death evades me, maybe fortunately?
But a live of misery I have so long survived,
And trying to find my way my only crime.
Is it me that's the problem,
Or what lies in the insides?
Is it the happiness I show,
Or the pain which I hide?
For one is real, the other is a lie,
But neither consoles me, no matter how hard I try.
A smile upon my face,
And a grimace I hide,
Confidence on my tongue,
And confusion on my mind.
What is the purpose,
What does it take to find?
Is my life upon a timer,
Or a race to be timed?