The Best Yet

A poem about my sadness

A poem on my sadness

Sometimes the sadness I feel it's not romantic at all, but the words that are really deep from within its a relationship between my mind, my brain ability and the pencil on paper. The sadness feels like a tear drop in a ocean. One tear, turns into something more. It becomes one with  the ocean, you would have never suspected in the single ocean there would lie a tear that has fallen.

Mental illness its not romantic it's chaotic, though somewhere within you could either let others tell you how to manage it, or find the strength through the nights and days crying and the tears unshed to claim your life, and make your struggle apart of the process. Listen to the words you feel. Its like lines on a paper yet to be written. Not every curse is a blessing, not every blessing is good. You cannot show the scars you hide, but it's not like people don't see already how you are to them. Life, is what I make it. If I don't find a way to get rid of the emotional pain, and every day burden. I will live a prisoner of this. The more I go under it feels like self karma. The only way to end this, is to live. Not live, like be placed in the world school, work then die. Live as in turn the chaos into, the human spirit on fire. Those who are  are writers, thier hands might not hurt, but we don't know how many tears dropped on thier soul written paper.

I'm into art, and I know pain. Though I also know that some would have not masterpiece without the pain they gone through it gave them shade from life, but the art gave them light, even if thier  bridge was burning.
-Become Alive