The Man Above The Boy Within

Burning Darkness

It feels good going insane in the morning,
When the sun lights my demons ablaze,
When I burn but in the dark,
But I'm not consumed,
The poison in my mind,
The ice in my heart,
Moulded into a weapon,
Looking for peace and calm,
Hoping to be kept where the light is.

I want to sleep for a long time,
Wake up in a new century with a new soul,
Commiting a geographic suicide,
A new century where the lights aren't blinding,
A new century where I won't take sunrises for granted,
A new century where I won't change with the weather,
Where my patience dances with my silence,
Where I seduce this echo until it dares me to dream.
For every fight out of this ink,
I wade a little further in.

Running away from this unremitting elegiac,
I have a persistent grief,
If I leave the darkness,
Do I have to give the stars back?
If I whisper to the world,
Would it listen?
Could the world bear it if I screamed?
From this burning dreary?
Seeing scars instead of stars,
The sombre holding me enthralled,
My story awaiting voices.

There is a fragility in me,
One that needs to be convinced at times I matter,
That my insanity is okay,
And I don't have to hide my scars,
And I don't need to conceal my tears with words,
And my mind as a typewriter,
Tears for ink and duvets for a scroll,
That the pen, my mind's blade,
Leasing out liquids that are handcuffs and is recommended,
That the waves I drown in willingly,
And the burning umbra in my soul is just okay,
And my ashes will spread on the sea, peacefully.

Kg_asare_🎈