The Death of Myself

All I've ever dreamt is but a lie to fulfill the hollowness of the truth.
I can't deal to acknowledge what I've let myself become into.
I imagine my future and everything else as if my choice of life truly holds that.
I can't help but laugh at the stupidity I've done or thought.
Keep moving forward is what I tell myself on a daily basis but is that sufficient?
I'm trapped inside myself.
I cry, yell, even laugh out for help but once its offered, I can't quite seem to take it.
It's not about pride but self confusion.
Almost every end of a day I wish I can live in my lying dreams of hope and life.
Not suicide. Just to live in those beautiful lies than the ugly truth.