I opened my eyes, and everything is feeling lies; my blood is not enough to fulfill life, and my soul already died. Walking, wearing a white sheet, that was already worn out and sat; seeing my friends just walk and passed. Trying myself to convince my soul to resurrect and all of the parts of me that disconnected.
I opened my eyes, to realize that I can't see the space between dreams and realities. Nobody with the bare eyes can see me, only a few ghosts like me can understand it. Living in a dream colored in soft and blurry cream: time passing through like a dime, feeling like I'm a mime, distorting in my fantasies and acting like I'm making a dynasty; feeling like I'm old and my brain is rusty. I don't have a legacy.
I opened my eyes, veins still covering my heart, and my airways are in your cold ice. Watching some cartoons and dreaming my life is an art. Frowning like a rainbow after the cry at least I shine and not fry. My impasto ceiling on my eyes, hearing the staring of the abyss while fantasizing about a life that I could have been if this little pretty beast stops haunting me. Eating some beans to stop my feelings, while figuring out if I'm still dreaming.
I closed my eyes and eventually it hits me. Your lies still shine, now I don't even know how to whine. My empathy is drying me, I wish I don't regret my apathy. My sight is still dark, I see some colors and shapes that only my mind can mark. I wish I didn't drink that wine, realities all intertwined. Reality is killing me; creating a haven to keep me sane in the world full of broken dreams and bloodstains.
But as the realities and dreams all intertwined, i was never there, i was inside my mind.
YOU ARE READING
THE CLOUDWALKER
Poetry𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 (𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗧) - Living in my own words is better than to suffer your world. "THE CLOUDWALKER" is a collection of poems about the feeling of not belonging to the world, feeling of being trapped in the past, presen...
