I'm sitting here, in my house, in my home, staring at the black walls around me in my room, remembering I was the one painting them. Because black was all that remained from all the colors that once shaped me into who i was back then, and now my veins are paper-thin, like thunder and fire killing me from within i crave for a reason to become a winner but the blood on my sheets says you're a sinner. I hide myself behind these words and hope nobody's smart enough to know the art of reading between the lines because they are the one that define that i'm nowhere near fine but death sounds so pretty in a rhyme. The glass of wine is glued to my fingertips, it's past 3 am when a pill slips between my lips and one single thought grips itself around my throat and makes me write a suicide note while i choke on the truth that my youth is nothing but pathetic, take away all those poetic texts, what's left in the end is the question 'whats next?' And to be honest i don't know, for now time goes by so slow yet faster than it's ever been, and the lottery of hell takes another round, as i bury myself into the ground. And then, one morning i wake up thinking hey this could be a good day, but then my shadow comes around and puts on a filter of grey shades, invisible tears dropping on my jeans while i sit in school and stare on screens, in a class of 30 teens am i the only one not having the strength to study molecular motion, i barely remember my own devotion, and i walk home and go to sleep, just to repeat and repeat and repeat... I wear my sadness on my skin like vanilla hand creme, pretend my life is just a bad dream, and in a minute i'll wake up to sunshine and a cup of happy, but life is cruel so my golden rule has to be to keep waiting for that day to come, although i'm shrinking and breaking and fading into a tiny ball of misery, and peacefully refuse to free my mind because all that i believe is that perhaps some people are not designed to be blessed. All i have left to decide is whether or not to put on the life vest before throwing myself into the ocean that is waiting for me to die, Some nights i cry because i miss the breath of my demons sleeping next to me. Some nights i cry because they take up too much of my bed. Some nights i cry because the darkness doesn't let me see, Some nights i cry because i have a monster as a pet. And i feed it well. I hate how much i love it. its name is sorrow.
