Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I say I want time and space,
I say I just want to be on my own.
I tell stories of what I think I want.

Realistically what I want is people around me, to talk to and be with.

When I achieve this I waste it, I ignore them or break my promises. I lead myself back into a spin cycle of the same thing.

Lost once again I search and look for more people. I get close again and let it happen all over again.

This loop carries on forever, I tell myself to stop yet I still long to find my way out of this. Should I instead prepare myself for another iteration?
No idea where this went to
Don't touch, feel.
Don't hope, trust.
Don't frown, smile.
Don't plan, do.
Don't think, wonder.
Don't dream, achieve.
Thoughts from a long bus journey home
Depression isn't sadness.
Many think the two correlate but sadness is a mood where as depression is as much physical as mental.
Sadness can change easily as the wind can change direction.
Depression is being trapped in the wind, no obvious path to escape.
Depression is an island of thoughts and feelings where nothing makes sense.
Depression is being under a relentless cloud which rains only upon you, it's a barrier between you and the outside world.
It cannot be fixed easily, a broken bone is obvious and physical where as a broken brain is not so much.
The most important part of the body can be damaged and hindered so easily.
2 choices.
The hard one or the easy one.
Which path you take defines you.
Written for a friend to the best of my ability, not enough people will see this but it's a serious issue. Let's make this world happy, peace not war, love not hate, sleep not death.
My nothingness follows me as I stroll down the streets.
Uninterrupted and ignored by all.
The worthless looks I get being judged.
Not worth a glance I bare on my own journey.
No planned destination or route but just wherever I am taken.
Fate dictates and decides my life.
So far it's only brought me ideas but far from a certainty.
The only certainty is death.
So I carry on my path in hope that one day I will be known and wanted.
Until then I leave where I'm from in my wake.
I sit here and ponder at life.
A lot of time to think to myself.
Through all the good times and the bad times.
All alone.
Several brothers and sisters.
Our bond forged in fire.
Not by blood but blood would be given for them.
Caring for everyone in hope they would do the same.
Those close to you are royalty.
They're perfect to you.
Friendships that you wish would last forever.
Anything would be given to help.
I have a lot of time on my own.
No brothers.
No sisters
Only child
Lonely.
I don't know where this was going but I've just helped a friend and have stuff on my mind.
Life is so loud, always full of sounds.
Whether that coming from us, a flock of birds or a hound.
Forever these sounds go on chirping and speaking. At nights these sounds reduce to faintly creeping.
This sound effects our everyday business whether being on the streets or the wilderness.
These sounds will hurt you or please you at their own will but only if you give in and don't keep on fighting still.
The quiet is what we should aim for, the stillness, the peace. However we are scared of the day it comes whenever it may be.
I like train journeys and the sights that you see.
I like the movement and the twisting and turning.
It reminds me of myself, my path.
A constant cycle of emotions as if I'm programmed to follow a certain pathway of emotions.
I like the options when on a train though.
I like the fact I know I can get off anywhere.
Only if I could run away and start again but my past soon drags me and my dreams back.
Relentlessly I am forced back into my lifeless, dreamless reality where money means happiness and feelings mean little.
Wrote on a train
Twinkle, twinkle little star, were millions on millions of miles apart.
Your powerful beams shine so bright, even lighting the moon on a cold, harsh night.
You touch the lives of all that see you, setting example for more than a few.
We hope you can keep on gleaming as the hearts of all are beating.
When you finally go and never come back, are planet will be cast in black. Through the darkness will come a cheer as a new beam of light appears.
Life is like a poem.
It always has a start and an end.
What happens in between defines it's worth.
However sometimes this worth leads to knowledge after its end.
This is a legacy and a goal for others.
Unfortunately goals like poems can sometimes fall short.
Left as a scrap with broken hopes.
Forever I wait for the day I'm a free man,
A day when I can walk down the road free of judgement.
A day when I can finally feel like I know all I need to.
A day when all pressure is lifted from my heavy shoulders.
This day will finally be the day I can look at my surroundings and truly see the world around me for what it truly is.

— The End —