Written Dec 10 2020 @7:54pm
I sit quietly in a room.
A lamp lights up the space,
Yet I still feel like my world is shrouded in darkness.
If there is light,
Everything is still monochrome in color.
A black and white filter lies over reality.
My heart beats quickly
But for what?
It is all over.
I tell my brain that.
I tell my heart that,
But the sound of blood rushing in my ears never stops.
I am only 1/4 of the way through life,
Yet why am I already so tired.
I wish for rain to come,
To wet my cracked lips that are searching for relief
In this desert called existence.
My skin feels like it's crawling,
I feel like I can't sit still.
But I do.
Because the amount of energy trapped inside is so great,
I find myself unsure how to release it.
So I lay on my bed,
A cocoon of blankets in isolation
Hoping the deafening sound of silence,
The ringing, in my ears will go away.
I have a future planned,
Supposedly.
But that future,
Those dreams
Feel unfamiliar and out of my reach
Like they were planned with someone else in mind.
Even when the sun is out and the sky is clear,
I crave darkness.
In the dark,
No one can see me smile,
But no one can see me cry either.
The dark feels safe,
Until the monsters of the void start grabbing at you
Grasping for the hem of your clothes with grubby hands.
Inwardly,
The heart rate increases.
Outwardly,
There is nothing but stillness
And a blank stare.
I'm tired. So, so tired.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryFor a lot of people, art is a way to relieve stress, to dump thoughts so they don't swirl around your mind like a torrent of negativity. Poetry/ writing lyrics, though I may not be great at it, is my way of doing a little "self-therapy" I guess you...
