pretending

Is it the beat?
I don’t know, but it moves me,
Eyes closed, and I can still see,
More than before,
I used to wonder what it was for,

The pain, the sacrifice,
All to survive,
“grateful” to be alive,

But what am I showing for it?
Is there regret?
Am I lying to myself?
Creating my own living hell

avoiding makes it easier,
By focusing on others,
My mind is busier,

Looking within?
Shit...I got a glimpse once,
I rather call it a sin,
And just pray, leave it up to God
It’s easier,

There is no fucking way, that I am responsible for all the shit that happens to me,
Someone is making shit happen to me, I’m sure you can agree, that I am the victim

Fuck…I just read that out loud,

It’s like I’m pretending