The spark in my eyes have died.
The village that raised me has wash away.
I cannot speak into the things that do not exist.
I keep trying to prove that I have it all.
Yet I have none of it.
I do not care for it.
I just cannot care for me.
I sit in agony worried about the things that have change.
While not working on the things that have can be change.
I just do not know where to begin.
I just know where to end.
Misconception 