A Repressed Rave

A Repressed Rave.

like a rose that blossoms in beauty
as well as withers in the following days,
young love is similar, in the way it decays.

late nights of slumber,
thought-and-mind less,
yet i am awake, when im already dead.

working in school, i do what i can
so why does it feel,
like im wasting my sand.

people think central,
and they dont give a damn,
but here i am, still being the lamb.

reminding myself
to free my obsessions,
but why do i always get caught in entangle

life is meaningful,
(or so i believe),
even though i dont see,
how it applies to me.