I found the way outFor the first time in yearsAfter learning the truth that;You had your back against my happinessTo subdue me a little while longer.©mysocalledthoughts
I wield nothing but silence to cure my aching soul.©mysocalledthoughts
The edge is callingIn its sweet melodic beatBeckoning me to come closerSo we can finally meetI often approach a little too keen to meet my maker and rest in peace.©mysocalledthoughts
I can't unsee thisugly state; No matter how much I scrub it doesn't fade away.©mysocalledthoughts
Broken, battered, soulless but still home.©mysocalledthoughts
This soul of mine wants to reap; the lingering sadness willing to put me in eternal sleep.©mysocalledthoughts
I'm scared of commitment. If I'm being honest with myself I'm scared of everything. There is nothing in the world that doesn't scare me so keeping to myself is my only way to defend from the unknown. It does come off as silly if I do ever think of it a little too long but it's my reality. Failure for one is underlined in red as well as disappointment so much that I might as well call my entire life up until now a blanket with a few patches of rebelliousness attempted in the past. Now I feel as though I'm hollow, a dried up mummy with nothing to offer but a fake smile and puffy eyes. I aim to please every living being but myself. As sad as it sounds I don't know why I do so but I do in such an unexplainable way you'd think its forced when it's not. I've never felt this sense of freedom anywhere other than when I write. When the boundaries I create as well as others fade away into nothingness and its only then I sense everything differently until the pen either runs out of ink or my thoughts are interrupted and I lose my breath again. A wave of depression often hits me then and I weep for the person I was just a moment ago to return to me and stay to keep me alive for just one more day.©mysocalledthoughtsSomething I never thought I'd pen. Inspired by @phoenicorn #PhStoryOfMyWrite
You shone so brightly; all I wanted to do was delve deeper into the darkness that always shrouded me.©mysocalledthoughts
Death was never a destination but a goal.©mysocalledthoughts
Perhaps the silence was just a cover up toconceal the rage brewing from within. ©mysocalledthoughts
You didn't hurt me,because I still smile whenever I remember you.It's just, I feel like my smile is empty and hollow now.Just like your promises.©anusreetadas
I’m scared to be happy. I know I have happiness in me. I feel it. But, it doesn’t feel right to bring it out. It feels like coming out of sadness closet. So much pressure. You’d think I sound stupid, but if you were me—and only if you were me—you’d know how heavy the cross I bear is. Sometimes, I try to force happiness come out of me. It feels fake, but I had to do that. But, then, happiness to me is such a scarce resource. I can’t splurge on it, like you people do. So, I keep stashing it away for some other day. For that winter when my windows breath in cold air. For that summer when the sun is high, the grass is green, and when I can be around people without having to kill them slowly in my mind. But, seasons come and go, and I still haven’t been visited by this elusive happiness I keep stashing away.
She is a miracle - and it is so soothing to watch her grow.
Perhaps,Blank pages are theonly escape for wordsmiths,from their heads.©when_eyes_narrate
People are like shadowsThey disappear when it gets dark.©dil_se_kalam_tak
It will hurt, always.Scars don’t change what we endured.When pain is within,salve is useless.
If I were my mind,maybe I would hate myself, too.
I have never been in a more hostile place than my mind.
I get the most out of writing when I’m unbearably hurt. Sometimes, I’m so scared to write, because I am not always ready to be unbearably hurt.
Have you seen happy people reading poetry? Neither have I.It’s weird, how certain things are born sad, like three legged puppy, underweight whale calf, and poetry.