Floating into the infinite abyss of despair,
Soul drowning in the void of emptiness,
Soaking my being with endless regrets.
How did everything turn out like this?
Destination is clear, but my eyes remain blurry.
Swaying with the wind until I eventually fly away.
A helium balloon remains afloat in the sky—could anyone be able to reach it?
Wind calls me, then the rain answers for me.
A wall built so high—is anyone up for it?
A cracked wall radiates its beauty, its finite existence fragile and humble within my heart.
A call for someone to paint the seams gold.
Don't worry; I have come to terms with myself.
Have I really?
Heart speaking the truth,
But I'm willing to be deaf.
YOU ARE READING
My Melancholia
RastgeleHymns for those in dark places, where the sun doesn't reach us, yet we persist in seeking light as human beings.
