My whole life, I’ve felt like I’m living a life that isn’t mine,
Following a script I didn’t write, wasting away with time.

I never imagined a future, I just live day to day.
Am I a puppet, playing a part, until I decay?

I don’t remember who I was before melancholy caught me;
It seems to be all I know, all I feel, all I think, all I see.

Maybe this is my purpose, to endure these thoughts with persistence.
I exist so you don’t feel alone…
How unfortunate my existence.