I am preplexed dementia. I am confused. I hurt. I cry. I live with my sorrow. Lots of things hurt. I can only hope I do right and feel better. There's a million things wrong in the world and I am one. Nothing seems to fit me. Nothing ever works out right. I am a lone being without a cause or goal. I am here. That is all. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to think back on. Painful as they seem, memories often make me happy for a brief moment. Kind of like a fantasy that never happened. It's fun, I love the feeling, it makes me happy, then I wake up. What was loved is now gone. Even though it's not there... I don't regret it. It was a wonderful time, which I can live many times over. Until the end reaches. Then I wish not to live another sorrowful day. It starts to hurt inside, and that is how it remains. Scaring me. Thus makes me never wanting to remember it again. There is now no hope for me. No one cares. No one loves. No one here. Makes me feel alone and that's the truth. I am alone. It's not my world. I cannot endure. The more I live, the more I hate my own pitiful love. Have you ever thought about a color that has never been before seen? Could you image that? Well that's kind of what my life is like. It's perplexed dementia.
