Most days are filled with silence,
As I sit on the edge of the bay,
Though my head is filled with words,
I seem to have nothing to say,
Most thoughts are filled with pain,
As I go through troubles,
Though I feel tears on the edge of my eyes,
They aren’t too humble,
Most futures are filled with doubt,
As I try to see myself to the extreme,
And I surrendered too many battles,
I could have fought,
Most steps are filled with uncertainty,
As I linger around helpless,
Claiming that someone would find me,
To know that I'm lying makes me soulless,
Most faces are blank,
No expressions,
No feelings,
No oppressions,
No dignity,
No respect,
No integrity,
Most injures are painless,
As I try to make myself feel,
That I belong somewhere,
When really, I belong to the unknown.
And those faces,
Are all copies of my own.