when it happened it was a surprise
like opening a birthday gift
from someone who didn't know you well

you're only grateful
when the moment is over

but the moment never died

for some reason
it eats where I eat
sleeps where I sleep
hides where I hide

it has taken over

he had no right to get close
to trap me in a single moment

if I was a sun
then I am not anymore
because his touch burned me
somethings shouldn't be ignored

Another night comes to end replaced by sunrise
Shamefully witnessed through jaded hazel eyes
Morning smiles met with awkward no replies
It seems as if the recreation developed into the demise

Pluck these feathers one by one
never mind the setting sun
I now have only just begun
to do what cannot be undone

Condemned to this tiny cage
Perched upon its iron stage
It's no way to come of age
So alas I am enraged

I have prayed now to the lord
to ask if he can afford
for death to be my reward
But again I am ignored
Forever I'll be bored

Pluck these feathers one by one
never mind the setting sun
I now have only just begun
to do what cannot be undone

I will gladly trade these wings
to feel ordinary things
I care not what this may bring
so, don't ask for me to sing

I suppose the time is nye
to my wings I say goodbye
I will never get to fly
and I'll seldom see the sky
but that pain it felt alive

I flip conversations with people like a mattress,
just an excuse to put a lot of arguments to rest.
As if time isn't good enough for me to miss,
I'll set my targets on doing something better another time,
to come back to the previous line's rhyme,— just
to prove I haven't fallen asleep, as I digress.

Still with all due respect, respect for a lot of things
seems a bit late, when all the clocks are put to death;
while we're all killing most of the time. But I should
bag a couple more seconds, to add to the restlessness
under the bags of my eyes.
....I'm always so less inspired, when I actually have
something sensible to write,— To then choose to write
more when I'm round the corner of Writer's block,
breaking down every block of thoughts in my Tetris mind.

But seriously, what was the point of this in the first
place anyways,— right about some random mattress.
A mattress sort of represents me trying to stay soft with
my words, but being firm with their initial cause.
And somewhere in between this prose, I'm supposed to
quote how you shouldn't be sleeping on my words.
That's easy an cliche, a cliche to me, of waking up to an
ugly day from a long beauty rest. Sorry I meant to say
ironic; and it's sort of comic.  Not the one that makes
you laugh, but the material magazine you flip over
like the start of my random mattress.

And just like that, how I start most of the things in my life,
is how it ends, and starts again. So I guess for flips sake,
I'm back to flipping the mattress again, and again...

I'm trapped
Food mapped out
No way out
Am I losing my mind?
How will I find a way out of this bind?
Out of this mess of a mind
No hope for the chains to be released
This is my way to cope with the pains, they never cease
I need a solution
Too much pollution clogging the pathways in this brain
I need a new way forward
A way to feel sane
But for now I'm trapped
no need to complain -- I did this to myself
no need to compalin -- it's time to get help and start helping myself

The skies hung heavy and black,
casting a somber mood over the world below.
It was as if the heavens themselves were
burdened with the weight of yesterday's sorrows.
The fields, once vibrant and alive, now wore a grey smile,
a reflection of the tears shed in days gone by.

As night fell, the symphony of crickets filled the air,
their chorus echoing through the stillness.
It was a quiet night, interrupted only by the
gentle handover of the sun to the moon.
The air carried a pleasant scent of dew, a reminder
of the rest that awaited all living things.
And amidst it all, the tiny footsteps of rain danced
upon the asbestos roofing, a thief of nature sneaking
into the sounds of peace.

In the midst of this atmospheric symphony,
a wooden kitchen door ticked with the passage of time.
It creaked open and closed, its rusted iron hinges
adding to the melody.
The door seemed hinged in thought,
attached by fears and darkness.
It formed a latch, and night became its key,
locking away the light and welcoming the shadows.

As I stood there, my feet grew cold,
chilled by the ice-like glass of my fragile character.
A towel hung limply from the handle of the cupboard,
a silent witness to my dry mouth and the skeletons
of my past that haunted me, beyond my control.

But amidst the darkness, comfort found
its way to my side, persistently offering solace.
It was a visitor, never truly staying,
but always there when I needed it.
In my mind, I set up a spare room,
a sanctuary for fleeting moments of respite.
And in those rare moments, a sparing thought
would gently grace my mind, offering a glimmer of hope.

Yet, even in the midst of this fragile peace,
a shadow lurked behind me.
She knew my name, intimately aware of
the battles I fought within myself.
The empty room, once a sanctuary, grew heavy
with the weight of my inner demons.
Like a fallen angel, I descended into the depths
of my own despair, the falling rain mirroring
the tears that stained my soul.
And in a whisper, a secret was revealed in my ear:
depression, depression, depression.

And so, my depressing thoughts found me once again,
enveloping me in their suffocating embrace.
The world around me faded into the background
as I became lost in the labyrinth of my own mind.

My body is my own worst enemy
Trapped.
inside - and stuck
Inside - with no escape
from the claws of this illness that
take hold of me

Rage - it pours from me
still, even though I have
no energy
left

I am left with scraps of
who I once was
- - and now?
What am I but a shadow of a previous
copy version of me  

I yearn and I grieve and I plead
but I am led yet again and again
to an endless tunnel of dread
that fills me to the brim
with nothing left but
the face of the victim
staring back at me in the mirror

I fear so much and so often -
this weakness has a grip so fierce on me
this sickness that has stolen so much from me
this demon has ****** and fed
on every bit of strength I have bled
of every bit of happiness I have shed
and left me with -
nothing

Nothing but empty vacancy
That is how it feels to be stuck
inside
a body that can no longer feel
normalcy

My body is my own worst enemy
Trapped.
inside - and stuck
inside - with no escape
So here I stay
Stuck and inside - and
Trapped
with no escape

In the depths of silence, where shadows reside,
A heavy heart, burdened, cannot hide.
Unseen, unnoticed, like a ghostly wraith,
I wander through existence, lost in a desolate faith.

In a crowded room, I fade to gray,
Whispers and laughter, they all drift away.
An outsider peering through misty eyes,
Yearning for connection, but met with empty skies.

Words unspoken, like echoes unheard,
Emotions trapped, stifled, never stirred.
My voice, a mere whisper in the wind,
Aching to be heard, to matter, to rescind.

The world moves on, an unforgiving tide,
Leaving me stranded, unwanted, denied.
Invisible threads bind me, a lonely refrain,
Longing for affection, like a wilted flower in the rain.

I seek solace in dreams, a sanctuary of the mind,
Where I am cherished, accepted, intertwined.
But awakening brings me back to the bitter truth,
That I am but a shadow, lost in the uncaring sleuth.

Yet amidst the darkness, a flicker remains,
A glimmer of hope, a spark that sustains.
For within this void, a strength starts to ignite,
Embracing my worth, pushing through the night.

Though I may feel ignored, unwanted, unseen,
I'll rise above the shadows, where dreams intervene.
For in this vast universe, I'll find my own way,
To shine brightly, even if skies remain gray.