A storm
Is what best describes me
A storm
Is all I could ever be

Dark, depressing, angry
Tears are falling like raindrops
Directing the wind towards me
Wishing it would only stop

A storm
Mixing all the thoughts in my head
A storm
In which I end up dead

Waiting for the sun to rise
And for its rays to mesmerize my eyes
Into believing I'm fine
And that it's finally my time to shine

In the middle of a storm
I'll be my own guide
In the middle of a storm
I'll find a purpose in life

Thoughts have stopped being my own
An unknown finger presses play
And when I get surprised by an original
That which I think becomes difficult to convey
What I want in life and from life
Has no meaningful connection with the following day
Forced into this empty role
No two cents in the character I display
Prewritten by something else
No angel but not a devil per-say
Rather an capital punishment believer
With zero concern for my welfare either way

©2024

Today I felt incredible sadness.

Sadness that I could not help,
Those around me and those far away,
Sadness that I am not doing enough.

I thought about the needy,
How much someone could support them.

Why couldn't it be me?
What can I do to help?

I do wonder.
If I may possibly be...
Cursed?

Maybe,
Don't develop feelings anymore,
We're trapped in,
Insanity...

You talk to someone.
You get interested.
You start to get feelings,
But out of respect,
You hold them back.
We talk a lot,
Then out of nowhere,
A shift in the world...

Either one or both of these...
You get bored of me,
You see that I'm just,
For you.
Or...
You find someone,
I no longer catch your eye.
Yet for both,
It's just zero communication.

So now I have all this,
Small information of you,
Making me once again,
Get upset about being,
Too interested,
In making someone
Smile.

I guess I must be,
Cursed.

Anxiety, the ever damnable beauty
You twisted my love into sins
You bend my trust into truths;
You are a rose that doesn't have thorns
Instead you're armed with thousand swords,
And in them I found myself
Always wounded—
Always I fold.

In the end I am a jester,
Laughing like a fool,
Kneeling in front the gallows
About to lose my darling head;
The stench of all the depraved
Mixed into a harrowing essence called Despair
Seeping into my soul as it pollute the air.

Darkness hugs me as my only friend
Crystals stained the pillows in my bed;
I know there's no problem
But you cunning devil incessantly whispered to me,
That they are always near.

Want to know what terrifies?

I claim
I am afraid of heights,
why?

my first thought
is
to
jump
.
.
,