A vague sense of wrong,
I should be lying, hide what I've done.
Nothing, simply, nothing.
Nothing at all.
The minutes, the hours wasted
for such little gain.
I robbed myself from a better self.
Any dreams of grandeur; gone.
I closed my eyes on the obvious loss
of control I've sadly reached.
Every waking moment compulsively filled
with others' irrelevance.
The few thoughts remaining will never sprout,
will never become peculiar.
Dazed, numbed by my lack of movement.
Any willingness now gone.
Life, passing me by.
The conversations I missed,
the people I didn't care to meet,
long gone.
I should not wish for better anymore,
I will never be happier than before.
