Every time i look up <br />listen up <br />the music gets softer <br />the light gets dimmer <br />the feeling gets grimmer <br />i wonder <br />am i losing touch <br />am i gaining much <br />lost in the timber <br />how many times can you be <br />hated <br />wished dead <br />before it grows on you <br />ive found myself now more than ever saying <br />i hate 'myself' <br />'I' wish i were dead <br />but yet i still wake feeling unscared <br />as to what has been said <br />i guess you have to learn to feed on the hate <br />to the point you have nothing left to fear <br />because even if it is hate <br />at least someone feels something toward you <br />apathy- east to learn - if given the right person<br /><br />justin byerline<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/losing-touch/
