Waking up to nothing

You know you’re waiting for something.
Because it all feels so empty.
The days run into the nights and the nights turn into those miserable mornings that you’re forced to wake up.
Wake up and paint a face yet again.
Somewhere deep down in the very centre of your being, You struggle to break free.
Tear through the facades, cut through the bullshit painted exterior that’s so beaten and weathered and still, like a roof it stays over you, protecting You from everything outside.
Someone said it’s better to build walls around you, because when you’re ready you can climb over those walls to face the world.
And do you want to?
Do you want to face this two faced, shit hole of a world that questions you over and over again for everything and nothing at all?
Every word you say?
Do you want to face this terrible mirror?
That shows you nothing you can’t live without?

But still you wake up every morning.
Listen to your music.
Talk to the people.
Make your excuses.

Because you’re waiting.
And you don’t know what you’re waiting for.

But there’s got to be something, right?
Something more to this treacherous monotony.

Curl up and shut your eyes.
Shield your poor little shriveled up heart for a little while longer.
Because there’s nothing else to do -
But wait.