When did I stop loving my life? Was it when I thought of cutting myself with a knife? Or was it when I had no one to confide, Maybe the first time when I cried myself to sleep at night. I don't know when did I start feeling lonely in a room full of people? Was it when the demons took over just like when I was little? Why did I feel hollow in the pit of my stomach when I just ate? Was it because it was anxiety again who knocked on my gate? Why was it that I lay down, Just an empty ceiling was all I see? Was it because of my own sleep Has broken up with me? When staring blankly at walls Seemed like a favourite pastime. When sadness and despair became dear friends of mine. When I let myself drown in the train of thoughts, Which rendered me devastated and compelled me to rot. Maybe it was then I stopped loving my life. It was then I forgot the meaning within which it lies. The sheer beauty of seeing the world with two eyes. The faith that after every sunset, there will be a sunrise. Why did I stop loving my life? I am still finding a reason why I am alive. Maybe I am born for a greater cause, Or just like everybody, waiting for god to press pause.