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.