I write to fill the void. As if words could replace my broken heart. I don't know if it helps, but perhaps if it's on paper, my sufferance might be acknowledged. And as the days go, I become but a leaf falling to the ground.
What was once beauty is now being stepped on.
I wonder how long this one will last. As though the clock ticking is my only cure. It always leaves, but they forgot to tell me It always comes back. Like the highs of the heavens and the lows of hell. I am trapped within four walls of what I call my skull. Within it, behind it, I see how defective my brain is. If only I'd love myself, then perhaps I'd have the courage to conquer it all. But instead, I weaken, rotting in my once comforting bed. I seize to be, for I have yet to find meaning in this pain. I have yet to find courage in this rain.
But do not worry, I'll tell you, for you I will hold on another day.
YOU ARE READING
life through words
Non-Fictionlife through words is a collection of small texts I have written and gathered for you guys. it depicts the beauty and tragedies of life in a format that is different than my normal work.
