Insomniac

Why am I awake? I'm tired, so so tired. But I can't sleep. I've tried everything. But the silence, Its deafening, The screams bring me to my knees. I am not enough, I am not worth it, I am not allowed the basic rights of every other human. Because I am useless, I am pointless. A mistake, A tragedy, A minority in the priorities of man's emotion. I can work, I can dream, I can climb, Always trying to find the answer, What everyone wants from me, What it is I am lacking that I need to be noticed, To be loved, To belong. But I am missing, I am losing, I am dying, All because I am trying to fit in to a world that will never accept the very presence of my life. There will always be stares, There will always be emptiness, There will always be sadness. Because no matter what I have to offer, It is never enough, It is never the best, It is never worth a glance in my direction. I pour my heart and soul into everything I do To make it perfect, To make it worthy of man's affection, because I have come to believe in my heart that somehow if my life is not worth it, If I am not worth it, Maybe I can do something to make up for it. But someone will always be let down. There is always something wrong because I have given so much to gain approval that there is nothing left of me to be loved for who I truly am. There will always be something missing because I have lead myself to believe that I am unloveable, and I have forgotten that since I have convinced myself of that fact, It will indeed become a fact and not just a fictional work of my own imagination. I have rejected the essence of myself in order to be accepted by a society that can NEVER be pleased. And so I lay awake. And Sleep is far away. And The day will come and go, Another empty blur in this monotonous pattern of sadness and pain I have come to call my life.