Who would have thought, my reasons for dead.
Would be the same reasons for not to be dead.
Who would have thought, I'd feel out of place.
In the same kind space I would know as a home.
Who would have thought that what makes me happy.
Would be the very same thing that makes me slightly unknown.
Who would have thought that slightly means tons.
And tons would just be me talking in tongues.
Lying away.
Crying cliché.
Broken meets dead.
Happy meets end.
Good says the bye.
By says the go.
Is it hi or hey?
Or is it hey or high?
I wish I had some sort of addiction.
So I wouldn't feel the reason to cut.
Oh.
Never mind.
Mind never.
I'm so ashamed,
Of my guilty pleasure.
I want to be.
To be what I want.
I have to be.
To be what I'm, joy.
What if my reason to be, is to be not?
What if my reason to stay, is the reason I've got,
My reason for dead,
My reason for not.
(December 06, 2017)
