Concentrating on falling apart

In this world where nothing seems real where nothing is what it seems in this world where we cry ourselvs to sleep where we would give anything to escape where we do anything to escape.  In this world we are all alone.  Alone and left to deal with ourselvs.  In the dark and left with nothing but our thoughts, our hopes, our dreams, our fears, our faliures, our miseries.  When were left with nothing its the red ink that stains this page that we have left.  We are all on a quest, on a journey.  We are all on the front battling our demons.  We are all stuck in the same wasteland.  The wasteland between being born and the day you die.