I am neither happy, neither sad;
I’m an empty – empty lad,
Waiting for some and someone’s care;
But having got it, I barely care.
It’s hard to believe that I’m loved;
I hate myself un- and be-loved,
Fearing that this hate is catching;
And I ever remain unmatching.
None could bear being so burdened;
I fear and seek abandonment,
Being burden on my own and else;
Death offers the only solace.
I’m on the borderline of living and dead;
I’ve pushed away everything I had,
Unknowingly who I am, but it’s not an excuse;
I have only social misuse.
I doubt if ever I could share this life;
Should I ever share this life,
While words are so easy to share;
But what being shares despair?