the TWENTY SEVENTH of AUGUST, TWO THOUSAND and TWENTY.

entitlement. what causes one to be so entitled?
for them to believe they have the right to stomp all over you,
to disregard your feelings and be so apathetic, so aloof.
to disregard your history and be so indifferent, so cold, so uncaring.
it's these little things that make me lose faith in myself.
despite these facts, i still crave for that something.
the second my emotions start to wane and i manage to detach,
i'm thrust straight into the deep end again,
and my lungs are slowly being flooded with ice cold piss.
i'm not quite sure what i ever did to deserve this.
i'm entitled, but not exactly in this way.
you are not god. i am not god.
we are all made of the same skin and shit and plasma,
the same pus and putrid bone.
we all exist until we don't anymore.
we are only significant to ourselves.
even that won't last long.
i can't sleep, now. i really wanted to sleep.

take me back!