I feel sick.
The twirling inside my stomach,
The view getting blurry,
And the world losing me, or maybe I am losing the word.
It sounds dramatic, but that's me.
I feel sick because I crave too much.
Too hard.
I crave to someone I will never get.
I crave to a world that does not exist.
I crave to a life that can never be true.
I dig into my mind,
Finding a way, yet the only thing I do
Is digging holes into my mind.
This holes made out of darkness.
Hopes and dreams which are lost.
I try to be a fictional person in a non-fictional world.
I try to make stories of a life with no adventures.
I try to believe in something that does not exist.
Do you know now why?
Why I want to sleep forever.
In this sleep I can make my own world and life.
My own adventures and dramas.
A love that never ends,
A life that won't fail my expectations,
A breath that won't go to waste.
This world, this life, I crave to.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Stories
PoésieThis is a book full with poems. Poems with me in it. They're not really poems, they're just my thoughts. Things I want to say out loud, but things you just can't say.. --- I don't want attention, I don't need attention, I'm just putting this poems...
