Zombie

If I were asked where I want to be, I'd say I hate this place and life, Where the choices I made are my bane, And they shatter me, so I live with this pain. When I look at the pink sky, All I can feel is sadness. Emptiness within me feeds on my body, Slowly turning me into a zombie. I hate the way I live; my ideal version is too delicate. The ineffable beauty of this planet no longer surprises me. Numbness consumes my space; I do not wish to be rescued and hope there's no place for me to stay.