These walls are too pasty. My hands are to pale and my eyes are to tired to stay open. I'm holding on, trying to get my grip on things but I'm slipping.
I'm drowning.
This water is choking me and my clothes are to clingy. The earth beneath my falls apart as if it wants me to leave. I gasp my heart and cry miserably, "I'm still holding on..."
But what AM I holding onto? Besides the memories I used to have of being happy, or the fake dreams of having a family? WHY should I be trying, when deep down I know there's nothing left inside but my own sick reality.
Let go, let go. Let my grip slip and let me fade away into a different existence. Let me fall into such a madness, such a sickness, that it destroys me.
Why should I have to carry HOPE. Let me be the reason why you hide behind your problems, let me be the reason why you don't face your fears.
All you ever did was bury me.
So let me ask you again. "Why should I keep Holding On?"