Me.

Sometimes I wonder why I’m here.
eyes closed. darkness surrounds me.
the peace makes me wish it was everlasting.
but I know it’s not yet my time.

When she died,
envy entered me.
green, dark and ugly.
wishing it was me.

Her fear and pain instantly wiped away,
with one final breath,
no more day to day,
no more stress,
just eternal, and forever, happiness.

Yet still I go,
a puppet on a string,
they wonder why I yell,
why must I complain.

Perhaps I’m just not ready,
to be what they want me to be,
perhaps I just don’t fit into that mould,
that society has so neatly created for me.