Discontentment

I have no yearning
to exist in a world
where promise are nothing but empty words.
Everyone is lacking empathy.
All compassion has turned to selfish greed,
and with all love comes double the amount of hurt.
My life is a timeline of negative events,
and every time I tell myself to move on,
there's a louder voice that manages to persuade me that I am all alone here.
The darkness embraces me with open arms,
multiplying my misery, and regret, and self loathing,
and allowing me to drown in childish fears.
But I am not a child,
nor do I remember ever truly being one.
Maybe that's why I've always been this way.