knowing she’ll never be mine.
The stabs from within
grow more gruesome.

The breaths I’ve been taking
weigh heavy.

The poison I ingest
numbs the pain inside—
but weakens the seals of my mouth,
revealing my greatest failures
to the ones around.

They say time heals all wounds…
but mine festers as it ages.
Is it the saying who's wrong—
or is it me?

Fooling myself—
“I’m halfway through.”
I dive with my eyes closed.

The sense of direction
vanished a mile back.

I wade forward,
bleak effort in each step,
doubting the trails I pass.

I embody Sisyphus—

Living in the past,
I wonder
if it would have been different.

I travel
but reach nowhere.

I lay shackled
in this desolate room of mine.
Even now,
a lingering drop of a beat remains.

Even the sight of air
that resembles you—
makes my core outlandish
and unfamiliar.

Vanishing all my obligations,
as if they were only dreams.

And yet,
I ask for nothing
but freedom
from the curse that has befallen me.

I’ll wait—
I’ll long—
I’ll dream—
of the day I see the smile
on your face again.

Look in the mirror—what do you see?
Success?
Failure?

I see a dead man’s corpse,
reanimating himself in an infinite cycle.

All for what?
Just to live another day
in this horrid world,
polarised in black.

We’re programmed
to wear a perfect smile
while our guts churn blood—

a perfect drama
for the herd of eyes
in front.

You pass by—
never seeing how my world holds its breath for you.

I know your laughter,
the flick of hair behind your ear—
small moments you forget,
but I remember.

I stay silent,
a nameless shadow
in the background of your story.

A pitch-black void—my current home.
Nerves tighten as I await the challenges ahead,
For the path I’ve chosen may lead to nothing,
A fruitless end, a whisper lost in time.

Yet, one thing remains unshaken—
The memories I’ve built,
And the ones still awaiting to be made.

The unsettling nature of its presence, disturbs the audience.
Rage, passion, guilt
hide behind its graceful beauty.
Mix evil into it—
it’ll bleed hues.
Mix good into it—
it’ll blossom its roses.
Mix both—
Meaningless balance is what you’re left with.