Sadness is a drug It slowly drifts you away from reality You slowly start to sink By the time you know it It already has you caught up You feel frozen in time
Sadness is a drug Hours, minutes, days, months Pass by- You no longer know what day it is No longer able to fell apart from reality You feel like you're alone and no else exist
Sadness is a drug Insomnia consumes you slowly The devil never seems to sleep It always creeps on you when you least expect it
Sadness is a drug Friends, family hit you up Your phone won't stop ringing non-stop You just want to sleep You feel tired, exhausted Your body is numb, it wants to rest. Ssshhhh ..... You just need is sleep
I love him He loved me once He now love someone else But He checks my stories around Unaware of the fact, that they're for him Or might be aware, maybe that's why he checks But He now loves someone else He loved me once I love him now too.
Everytime I wanted to make it last. I fail at it. No doubt, I've failed several times. But this is different.
Things drag me like a black hole. Things drag me, right towards the centre of where it all started. Or ended if I may say.
Walking along the footpath, not only lets you finish your distance safely, It lets you know where you belong.
I once walked along the reminiscence of ours and I said, I m i s s i t.
The harsh reply made me miss it more. "Don't miss me, okay?"
Okay. Fine. I won't. Ironic how you take away all my rights to miss you, miss us, and you yourself miss me. I r o n i c I said. Innit?
I don't know how people do it. Clasp it against the chest as if its the breath, if it gets far, life gets far. And then the same person throws it away as if it's a death! As if its grave, nobody wants to be it that.
Half travelled breath at my deathbed, with half fulfilled wishes for just a minute of glance your honest self... If it takes that, I am agreed.
I wished for "SHE WEARS A CAPE," COULDN'T FINISH. COULDN'T START THE UNFINISHED AGAIN.
And Hey, you. You surely do know now, "WHY I FANTASIZED GRAVES". Because that's home. For sure, I can't lie about it. It's home. Anyways, was it for me? I guess not.
@dopamine I adore you the most on this platform. Would love it, if you read it. And some parts aren't fictional.
There's a hurricane of thoughts that run around my not so perfect mind I build and rebuild the memories of my dream last night over a cup of coffee Black and little burnt ,yet I pat my back for making it still better than the last one. I sip with a smirk on my lips and lines of regret over my forehead. There is silence on the nights I binge watch a movie and I think of all good reason my life is exactly like the one in the movie, independent freedom and loneliness lying around the pillows of my bed. I dust them each morning , Moaning to the memories they settle back each night with the tears that burst over them.
I sleep over the drunk thoughts that put you together for one last time and all times you decide to company me along the sadness you left me with.
I gently rub my head thinking about them in all possible ways, I put all the sad metaphors that occurred my way on the bad side of my journal, You and I where never meant to be together there. The agony that came along with them,I slipped them down my throat with a handful full of happy songs I sometimes wish to listen. I carefully place the metaphors that stated love and jotted them down the other side of my journal. Carefully I pick all the words that meant happiness and weaved a poem down to you.
You placed them close to your heart and slipped a fire against the paper, Nothing but ashes defined all the love .
You've now replaced the hurricane of unknown thought to your only thoughts. I'll die to your memories Or live with a mind of war.
You have changed. Into someone you never wanted to see and feel. You live that someone now. While watching the sky changing itself into a new shade every new day, you changed yourself. From watching it just because everyone talks about its beauty to staring it as a need of your lost soul, you changed. Do you feel the same now? Do you think of them too now? You just think of them now. You changed your skin. But you wish to preserve the previous one for them. What if they wish to see the previous you again? You don't want to disappoint them. You still can't see them frown because of you. I don't know if should be glad for you. You're a liar. You can't lie. You aren't supposed to. But you don't find it any bad lying to yourself. You do that from time to time. Just because it's easy for you to lie to yourself and not to those who live for your truths. Should I feel bad for you that even you yourself don't care to ask yourself the reason behind all those lies? I'm telling you it's not at all good to find shelter under the roof of lies. Your roof isn't made of paper that'll just blow away with wind. It's made of paper that that gets wet in their rain to such a limit that your own softest touch will tear it apart. How much it takes to wait for the sun to come up again and help you dry your roof? You've stopped crying seeing the wrinkled paper once it is dry. The wrinkles increase in number with every rain and you smile thinking your simple plain paper is soon going to turn into a textured paper. You stopped finding a shoulder to cry on. You're afraid of the feeling that'll be left once the shoulder you cried on is no more with you. And I'm sorry for you don't know if your own shoulder can carry the weight of your transparent dilute tears. You find wiping your tears yourself easier than waiting for literally no one but someone to do that for you. You move away. As everything gets near you, you move away a bit more. You're afraid if one day the shortest distance between you and anything else will feel like the longest. While moving away from everything, you forgot that you are supposed to get close to yourself. Now you watch everything from far. Seems like it's all good without you. But ever wondered how lost the part of you feel staying away from you? I know you have but you barely care about that part which is now far from your least interested reach. You open a book and trace the words with your fingers. You just can't expect them to feel you. You just can't expect them to read you back. You don't read them now. You watch their form. How they are managing to stay in the same shape and size in any sentence. You wonder how you find them holding a different meaning in each. You wonder what's your meaning. Your heart skips a beat with that full stop at the end of last paragraph. Your heart sanks seeing the other half of the page blank. You fiercely close the book and then open again to memorize the last sentence. But fortunately or unfortunately I don't know, you find a new chapter after that page. You feel like talking to me is a waste. Just like you feel listening to yourself is a waste. If only you let me talk with you and if only you try to talk with yourself. You aren't waste but you are wasted. Always high on emotions. You know you can't handle yourself to that extent but still you deny stopping. You never realized the exact stop. Don't you dare touch me. You've already turned my clean white fur into dark and dirty one. I can never forgive you for that. Just stay away. Away. But don't leave me. Watch me watch you from a distance. I know you aren't like this. You never were like this. I know. I know. I am sorry.