Ten,
For recognizing that I'm still alive
Breathing, loving, hating, and time that passes by.
Nine,
For people who never seemed to care
Live long and prosper - give in to despair.
Eight,
For things that got lost to the tooth of time
Nothing's ever constant don't bother to survive.
Seven,
For selfishness and hate that's in the air
Kill, burn, destroy, pillage, gather, run away.
Six,
For gluttony, power, money, fame
Dress up to be seen, take off to feel fame.
Five,
For things that are denied but do exist
Tyranny of the majority and acts of activists.
Four,
For forgetting things that no one should
Where you've come from, where you're going, where you'll come to, meet your doom.
Three,
For fake prophets that preach about the world
Arrogant illusion of knowledge misunderstood.
Two,
For those that hurt or feel in pain
Two sides of the same feeling, coin rusted, filled with pain.
One,
The fact that I shouldn't have been born
Dream the dream that's a nightmare, nearly wake up, then you're gone.
Zero,
For the fear of doom and tears of pain
The illusion that is over, brainless cowards with no name.
YOU ARE READING
The Dark Days
Short StoryThis is a compilation of works I've been making while going through depression. Main motives of these are feelings of being lost or misunderstood.
