Peace is fictional,
Or maybe my life is partial.
If so, then I'm not favoured.
I'm devoured.
My days are longer nightmares.
My nights with someones and somewheres.
My shoulders sagging holding tons.
Wish there were on and off buttons.
There's no sleep.
All night I weep, but there is no sleep.
Few hours of rest bring haunting dreams.
Mornings are filled with painful screams.
I bleed, with the burden, I bleed.
I forget to feed, I bleed.
The only thing hungry is my mind.
An unkind mind. A blind mind.
The curse of mental ability.
The power to think is a nasty hex.
Flashing memories overtake my blinking.
The previous overlapping the next.
A single person, a single moment.
Yet in different places with different faces.
Beyond time and age and reality.
My brain running infinite races.
They told me to loosen up, to let go,
but my uptight self is my foe.
A piece of me not wanting to surrender,
to the beat, to the high.
Fear of losing my hold on the mask is why.
The world doesn't possess enough ecstasies,
to cater my crave for happy places.
And yet a million pieces of me,
wanting to be set free.
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Don't know why I uploaded this. Don't even have a proper title for it.
Found it in my notepad. To be honest I don't remember why I wrote this one. This one doesn't make sense and doesn't rhyme properly. But anyway who cares.
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