I’m so tired,
Of trying to write,
I’m so, tired,
Of trying to write down my thoughts and feelings,
'Cause I don’t wanna feel things
I’ve been living all up in my feelings and that’s not healthy – I don’t wanna go through the proceedings and dealings of meaningless meetings in my mind with my demons darkening the pitch black room and I know it’s too early for me to end up in a tomb but it constantly feels like it’s the only option that I can’t opt out of, my voice is hoarse and I can’t shout to the light above,
My arms outstretched on either side of me,
Trying to hold them back so I can savour my sobriety,
Not an alcoholic but my addiction is vanity and this is my liquor leaking slowly from the pen onto the paper and I’m hoping someone rushes in like this is some home-friendly caper,
My ego is a demon and I’m trying to escape her and I try hard to hide behind my mask and façade of a visage but she can see through it like she’s a gender-bent mirror image of me sent intent on my descent to insanity and –
I’m so, tired,
Of trying to fight,
I’m so, tired,
Of trying to fight the wax of the sealings,
‘Cause I don’t wanna feel things,
At home all day and I have nothing to say,
Disappointment and resentment pulling at my heartstrings and I’m trying to distract myself so I don’t have to listen to the music my heart sings,
My mind and my heart are constantly at war and I don’t know if I can take it anymore,
Writing is my Cherie amour, it’s one thing that I adore but the easiest way to slip on the floor into my flaw with its maw wide open waiting for me,
And that leads me back to the table where I sit unable to escape my ego and I hate her because she’s the darkest side of me – I see her when I sleep and she is who I become when I’m done with hope and I keep trying to hold on but she’s a master at getting me to render my splendour of the works I work so hard to write, and I hate that my base instinct forces me to rise and never surrender ‘cause –
I’m so, tired,
Of trying to write,
I’m so, tired,
Of trying to fight to write about my hopes and dreams,
They’re just unravelling seams which stings,
And I don't wanna feel things
YOU ARE READING
My World: Quest For The Throne
PoesiaIt's my world - my life as I deal with its troubles and strife, It's my tale - my story as I reach out always searching for the glory, The throne is my home and home is where the heart is, So I'm trying every day not to be heartless as I confess my...
