Born Just to Break?

Why the hell are we breathing, huh?
If every inhale feels like rust and dust?
Woke up again, just to ache and crawl,
Another day, another silent fall.

They say "life's a gift"—what a cruel lie,
Wrapped in suffering and tied with “why.”
We’re born to smile, they say, to thrive…
But no one explains how to feel alive.

I’ve seen joy die behind tired eyes,
Watched hope decay while the strong wear disguise.
We laugh loud to bury our scream,
Calling it life—when it’s barely a dream.

Bills, pain, heartbreak on repeat,
A loop of survival, not feeling complete.
Connections fade like smoke in the breeze,
Love is a wound that rarely heals with ease.

We fake the smiles, we play our part,
While emptiness messes up with every heart.
Tell me, what’s the point of all this mess?
To exist, to rot, to feel less and less?

If this is “living,” then what is peace?
A thing we chase until our lease
On time runs out, and we’re cold and still—
Is death the cure, or just one more pill?

So why are we here? Tell me, please.
To break, to bend, to fall on our knees?
Maybe the truth is brutally clear:
We’re alive… just to disappear.

_ By Palak Sawant.