Pressured

When days seem like years and thoughts bring you to tears.

The light at the end no long gratifying, your deep hole hurts more than dying.

The pain no longer classified, good days just make the bad more amplified.

Advice brushed off in a seconds, loneliness is a fatal weapon.

Promises are only broken, a troubled mind leaves you misspoken.

Pressured to succeed, even if it were our last deed.

I can’t handle the world’s pressure.

I feel alienated and unappreciated.

I feel helpless and scared and yet I try my hardest not to care.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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