Veer of Nothing.
Pure rubbish.
I don’t want to be myself. I don’t want to prove myself anymore. What is there to prove? Simply nothing of nothings. In me there is a black hole that contains the ends of eternal wrath and darkness. How I wish I can live outside this tangible form and free myself from all the miseries that are imposing sharp knives into my delicate heart. Tiny particles of salty tears fall down to confirm the weakness that builds its domain inside mine. And I brush them off because I am mortified by these cold and crisp droplets which can’t even unleash the pain lost somewhere in my system.
And now you tell me that I am worth something.
But what is there to dream on? What is in tomorrow that waits for my existence.
How often do I have to stare at the moon to find some sense in the monochromic answers it always gives me? How often do I have to sing my favorite song to dull myself out from the never-ending ache that embraces me with its disgusting cloak? How often do I have to let go of every little thing that may mean everything to me?
How often must I ask these questions when I know in the end I will never receive the most honest answer.
Everything is a lie. And everything is nothing.
My mind goes into a split second trance and I become lost in my own fantasy of thoughts.
Where are you?
Outside the rain pours endlessly like mad souls being thrown down from heaven. Banned and rejected. Will I be one too?
A taboo. A disgrace. A horrible being not precious enough for its dear life.
And now you tell me tomorrow will be better than today.
But today has not much of a difference from yesterday. And yesterday was the same as yesterday’s yesterday.
And everything is simply the proud replica of one another, and it goes around in a ferries wheel of old lies and hidden truths.
Up and down. Back and forth. All going in circles. When will you ever get tired of the same old boring day?
And you ask me why I feel this way.
Because everything has become nothing when you realize that the world you live in is not the world you should be in. Everything is all wrong because god made some mistake in mixing the flour and honey with the salt and pepper. Cooking is not really his greatest match.
And now you laugh for the utter insignificance of my life’s plot to yours. But as you do, tiny particles of salty tears fall down to confirm your own weakness. And I brush them off because you are mortified by the truth these cold and crisp droplets reveal to you.
And now I tell you that you are worth something.
But something is nothing to everything.
I don’t want to be myself. I don’t want to prove myself anymore. What is there to prove? Simply nothing of nothings. In me there is a black hole that contains the ends of eternal wrath and darkness. How I wish I can live outside this tangible form and free myself from all the miseries that are imposing sharp knives into my delicate heart. Tiny particles of salty tears fall down to confirm the weakness that builds its domain inside mine. And I brush them off because I am mortified by these cold and crisp droplets which can’t even unleash the pain lost somewhere in my system.
And now you tell me that I am worth something.
But what is there to dream on? What is in tomorrow that waits for my existence.
How often do I have to stare at the moon to find some sense in the monochromic answers it always gives me? How often do I have to sing my favorite song to dull myself out from the never-ending ache that embraces me with its disgusting cloak? How often do I have to let go of every little thing that may mean everything to me?
How often must I ask these questions when I know in the end I will never receive the most honest answer.
Everything is a lie. And everything is nothing.
My mind goes into a split second trance and I become lost in my own fantasy of thoughts.
Where are you?
Outside the rain pours endlessly like mad souls being thrown down from heaven. Banned and rejected. Will I be one too?
A taboo. A disgrace. A horrible being not precious enough for its dear life.
And now you tell me tomorrow will be better than today.
But today has not much of a difference from yesterday. And yesterday was the same as yesterday’s yesterday.
And everything is simply the proud replica of one another, and it goes around in a ferries wheel of old lies and hidden truths.
Up and down. Back and forth. All going in circles. When will you ever get tired of the same old boring day?
And you ask me why I feel this way.
Because everything has become nothing when you realize that the world you live in is not the world you should be in. Everything is all wrong because god made some mistake in mixing the flour and honey with the salt and pepper. Cooking is not really his greatest match.
And now you laugh for the utter insignificance of my life’s plot to yours. But as you do, tiny particles of salty tears fall down to confirm your own weakness. And I brush them off because you are mortified by the truth these cold and crisp droplets reveal to you.
And now I tell you that you are worth something.
But something is nothing to everything.