Life At It's Finest


United States
35° 57' 34.4628" N, 77° 50' 12.9228" W

It's strange because I'm not afraid when I should be.
It's strange because as delicate as life is, I take it for granted.
It's strange because as I grow, I get emotionally drained by the day.
It's strange because we all have limited time, yet I don't live mine to the fullest.
It's strange because I know I can achieve but I don't try hard enough.
It's strange because I love life, but at the same time I know it'll quite literally be the death of me.
It's strange because they say to enjoy life when all you can do is despise it.
It's strange because... hm.
Maybe life isn't so strange.
After all, it's what I was born into.
Hate, criticism, judgment, cruelty, all just by being me.
It's strange because in a world full of this, people have the will to live.
Sometimes, I don't.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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