To live but not quite living,
Because living only means surviving.
Waking up in the morning in despair,
Because all existing hope is now dead.
Faith is only an overused reason,
A nonsense reason,
A reason to push us on the verge of insanity.
Fighting and combating against what can not be seen,
Succeeding to stand up then to tumble over and over again,
To be bruised from the endless battles,
Bruised until the true light finally appears.
This soft looking light,
This light that calls out my name.
With a smile, I slowly walk toward it.
"I can feel it now... true peace"
Suddenly this comforting light vanishes before I can reach it,
I open my eyes to see my white and cracked ceiling of my bedroom,
I sit up and look at my reflection in the mirror filled with determination.
Ready to go through the day.
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryThis work is very personal and dear to me. When I was a teenager until now, I write down what I can't say to people face to face. No one knows about this, those poems and texts contain my deepest thoughts and my own, raw darkness. I hope every one o...
