i come and go, im

i come and go, im here, im there.i sleep, i wake.i go throught life feeling the dread. the dread of the sorrow of my life and the disarrage. how did i get here?how did my life suddently seace to exist to its full potential. can i really come to the realization that im not a perfect and happy person. how can life really matter if the whole time i've been lost, lost like the complicated human beign that i am. i have to accept the fact that im not perfect.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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