My paradise
Alright, I have those times again when I am alone and... yeah... think of a lot of things. I sometimes wish I was a robot; controlled by others, never getting tired, not having the ability to feel or think.
The emptiness within my chest reveals the pain I hold inside. With no one around me, in this silence, and only the daily hustle of cars underneath my apartment, I avoid my own thoughts. I try to survive in this hush of the day.
With my earplugs on and the music's volume at it's highest, I wait for my ears to bleed. The belief of locking myself away with the help of the sound, I stay cornered between two walls. Absorbing every beat of every song I listen to, I close my eyes and lose myself in the different melodies of repeated, sad songs.
As if my ears are the only string that connects me with the outside world, I feel secluded in my own little melancholy and few colors. Behind my eyelids lays a place where I imagine myself to roam freely. Where no one is allowed to enter, no one having the permission to pass the gate and enter that little paradise.
The sign on the gate reads 'VIP only'.
The long, never-ending plains, the soft sand and the clean blue sea. The lack of colors, the lack of sun and the absence of people. The little world where I travel is locked away from the rest, no one acknowledging it's existence.
That's where I travel every time I break apart little by little. That place is only my imagination, a product of my messed up mind, my not so smart brain. The location of it is only mental, the whole scenery a lie. And every time I am there, I know I won't want to leave. The caramel rivers running through the green plains where indigo flowers are swaying in the soft wind under the light gray clouds which threaten to let go of their raindrops.
I wait. Once the first drop falls, the rest follow faithfully. And when the first has touched the ground, everything turns into a hurricane ready to swallow the beauty.
The silence breaks and fills with angry thunderstorms. The raindrops never stopping and now stinging my face once they touch it. And as much as I try to run away, there is this voice in the wind that reminds me my name. The one that is after me without any reason, just to terrify me and remind me my life. The life I left out of my own world and the one I'll have to return to.
And when I open my eyes and notice the music has stopped playing, I feel the light weight on my shoulder where a hand is resting. I look up and find the silhouette of a beloved person of mine calling out my name in worry and concern, both of which I ignore and accuse as lies. But when I raise my hands to my eyes, I feel the raindrops of my mind. However, these ones have the disguise of tears.
The emptiness within my chest reveals the pain I hold inside. With no one around me, in this silence, and only the daily hustle of cars underneath my apartment, I avoid my own thoughts. I try to survive in this hush of the day.
With my earplugs on and the music's volume at it's highest, I wait for my ears to bleed. The belief of locking myself away with the help of the sound, I stay cornered between two walls. Absorbing every beat of every song I listen to, I close my eyes and lose myself in the different melodies of repeated, sad songs.
As if my ears are the only string that connects me with the outside world, I feel secluded in my own little melancholy and few colors. Behind my eyelids lays a place where I imagine myself to roam freely. Where no one is allowed to enter, no one having the permission to pass the gate and enter that little paradise.
The sign on the gate reads 'VIP only'.
The long, never-ending plains, the soft sand and the clean blue sea. The lack of colors, the lack of sun and the absence of people. The little world where I travel is locked away from the rest, no one acknowledging it's existence.
That's where I travel every time I break apart little by little. That place is only my imagination, a product of my messed up mind, my not so smart brain. The location of it is only mental, the whole scenery a lie. And every time I am there, I know I won't want to leave. The caramel rivers running through the green plains where indigo flowers are swaying in the soft wind under the light gray clouds which threaten to let go of their raindrops.
I wait. Once the first drop falls, the rest follow faithfully. And when the first has touched the ground, everything turns into a hurricane ready to swallow the beauty.
The silence breaks and fills with angry thunderstorms. The raindrops never stopping and now stinging my face once they touch it. And as much as I try to run away, there is this voice in the wind that reminds me my name. The one that is after me without any reason, just to terrify me and remind me my life. The life I left out of my own world and the one I'll have to return to.
And when I open my eyes and notice the music has stopped playing, I feel the light weight on my shoulder where a hand is resting. I look up and find the silhouette of a beloved person of mine calling out my name in worry and concern, both of which I ignore and accuse as lies. But when I raise my hands to my eyes, I feel the raindrops of my mind. However, these ones have the disguise of tears.