Життя це дні, а дні - буття.

Unsettled heart

It beats too fast when I am alone
In so-called safety space - my room.
But even there I feel the ugliness of life.
My heart bleeding from something everyone calls "nothing"
So if it's nothing, why it hurts?
So many small wounds are nothing.
"Just stop it," "Go away" "Be normal".
This hurts, isn't it?
Small wounds are insignificant for others,
But every inch of open skin
Is something really important in your life. 
And what about feeling?
So every small emotion is nothing?
You would want to save me in the last seconds before death?
And what you did before?
Screamed at me for these complaints and discomfort?
I really tried to understand my feelings, 
But society taught: you are weak. And will be forever. 
So now I fight for every world, and patching up every inch myself.
It's just routine,
I even can't that it is, in fact, insane.
I hurt, I heal, I act like I am normal.
I hurt, I heal, I act.
I hurt, I hurt, I act.
I hurt, I hurt, I hurt.
And now it is normal.

01:28, 13/08/25