the deluded ones [#2]

scared

april 22nd, 2017

emptier rooms never echo what i really want to say, but sometimes, words mean nothing to those who don't understand. people like me keep spinning and spinning till they cannot breathe and see, and they keep speaking and speaking, not knowing what they actually mean.

patterns and rhymes, they are what speak when i cannot; they go round and round till they finally stop. rhymes and rhymes, they go around and around the meaning like carousel rides and meaningless singing. but every rhyme, every word spoken, is lost in the mists of forgotten memories, except for those belonging to the deceased.

rhymes can be little symphonies of fun, but people should know that people speak around when they cannot let themselves speak directly. instability, it ruins me as it forbids me from speaking with clarity. even so, they do not. instead, they curse the sky with my name for everything i say and see due to their ignorance and malevolence, and, despite their disgust and hatred for me, could i ever move past what i see and cover up everything with painted streaks? am i turning everything close to me into ashes that burn into history?

if the sky turned black and i turned blue, would peace come into existence at the sight of my sadness and monstrosity? would people find it easier to speak clearly without me? would my blueness disturb the obsidian sky and turn it into a translucent white?

emptier rooms, they never echo what i really want to say, but maybe it's better that way, despite the fact that it's driving me insane. emptier rooms, they say more than anyone ever thinks they do, but perhaps life is better that way.

perhaps you're better that way, never knowing the monster that eats at me, never knowing that i'm destroying myself every time.