Why I am here?

It’s like I have no will to involve,
Involve in life,
Involve in the activities around me,
In the conversations that are reel,
With the people that are far from real.
It’s like I have no will to continue,
Continue in the world full of pretense,
Go on with the art of faking in front
and Truth behind the back.
To carry on with the hurtful relations,
That supposedly are an antidote
Of loneliness.
Then why am I going on,
Is it the womb whose hope was me,
Is it the person that thrives for me,
Is it the sky that keeps me curious beyond than this,
Is it the hopeless hope that believes in magic of powerful will.
I think it is the combination of all this things,
But the most importantly it is the purpose that needs to be fulfilled by me…

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