3.12/23 7 am
Morning comes and it becomes only minutes away that the world will start again
I empathise with candles as they so beautifully smell and shine
Yet they, burn in agony until they disappear and what was once a beautiful prayer becomes void
But why am I still expected to shine when there is nothing left to burn?
"Others do it." I am often told.
Yet others turn their heads in disbelief when I draw the pictures engraved in my mind.
Truly, shock has never been a feeling tied to familiarity
Does that make me peculiar?
If peculiar and strange, then I must question how should I shine as others do.
Why do they keep lighting fires in my melted sorrows of wax dripping over the table,
Believed to carry more sense in my life when mine has co clearly reached its inevitable perfection?
Perfect ending, to the perfect burn, to the perfect soulless destitute that has been this long slow shine.
YOU ARE READING
The Sunflower diary
Poetry(..How to live with heartbreak) This book holds all my thoughts put into potentially good poetry. I'm hoping you'll like it and even empathize with it. Have a good read :)
