I cant live dreading my life, caging my soul, with the dark cloud of threats hanging over my head. In fear of my soul. The sudden realisation that I have hindered myself my whole life is, frightening. You are your own worst enemy is an understatement, you are your own murderer.
Even breathing has started to take a toll on me along with the burden of this realisation. I am everything bad in this world, but contradictions take place and the world moves forward. I am everything bad in this world trying to be everything that is good in this world.
My lungs have black holes and the blackness is overshadowing yet I breathe. How heroic of me. Yet I hate, I am bitter. Bitter about my darkness, but cant I see? By being bitter, I'm allowing the darkness to swallow me in its comforting arms, for it never leaves. I yearn to have some thing to call mine, but neither is the darkness mine, nor is my soul.
Yet, I run.
That is my life.
YOU ARE READING
My Boring Escapades.
Poetry"Breaking free from the thoughts of others." Not alot makes sense in this book. Its not supposed too. They most definitely might be terrible, its just my way of keeping track of things I write no matter how terrible. These are unedited, theyre only...
