thoughts

 
 
 
  most times I think; what's the point? the point of jotting the page with scattered thoughts once again;  
 
    thoughts seem to feel just as cold, dark and grim; institutionalized without ever stepping foot in a physical prison;
 
buried alive feeling upon opening one's eyes; in the back of one's mind saying,"but I'm not a bad person"  
 
waking from yet another activated dream; thoughts like how much is it worth living? occasional thoughts of an after life that technically hasn't been proven
 
bedroom feeling like a waiting room for death; the outside world is an unforgiven jungle in disguise; where everything's on the line at all times;
 
depression....