Sometimes music is all you need, but then there are days when the light seems to fade away and though I long for a good time, for some company, and a screaming melody, all I can find is an empty vessel speaking lies and death.
Am I dead?
I'm fully alive, wishing, dreaming, thinking of better times. Days when my head isn't filled with decay, rotting things, empty merry go rounds stuck at an abandon amusement park without a sign of the sun, glory, the olden days when we lived just because we could.
YOU ARE READING
Incomplete thoughts.
PoetryA collection of words that convey incomplete stories from my mind. Some mere sentences, some paragraphs with misplaced conclusions. A fragment of a picture.
