Where do I start?

No thrill in life just feels so dull
I tried a thing and two but still
I walk through halls that seem to end
With something I won't likely get.
And nothing seems the same to me
But even though you'll never see
The things I had and have to see
And have to say what I don't feel
And kill again, until the end
That draws so near — the killing spree
Of words that I don't even mean.
And I don't mean what I think of
Although it may seem like a bluff
That I'm in pain, so deep that sea
Doesn't even seem as bad
As it really feels to drown in it.