Maybe i have forgotten what it feels like to write with great passion, or so I’ve thought
To write about my sadness, to write about the endless hole of numbness
Scared to write anything less, anything not deep or common
I hear the words, see them form
Not daring to write them; judging by the outline or whether i feel something
But I feel nothing at all
Even with those that I once thought were my words, I do not understand
I don’t feel deep enough
Could my writing be only associated with dark thoughts and hopeless dreams?
Both very hard to escape and very easy to fall back into
But I could not find the right balance
For they were both reality and I am stock in a dream.

To feel fear and not write it in your words
clinch and grind
To slowly try to swallow and speak despite the choked throat
To form words and intentionally write them wrong
You know that only you would read them so why make them instantly lost?
Confess and tell yourself
What is it that you truly fear?
The absence of someone who was truly there?
To only touch the surface? And nothing beyond, of someone who was truly there.

I fear for what I consider dimness that is only the long way to dark
I began to question the little things that don’t make sense from the start.

I said I’m not gonna break
But I broke anyway
Promised to hold myself but, I held my pieces away
And I whispered and after whispering came the scream
Run as far as you can from what sounds so real
For I could only imagine that if this isn’t a dream, I would never be able to wake.

I am the night,
They see and don’t feel
But the loneliest one
I am the knight,
They stand behind
And I hear the rythem of the fight
The battle bleeds,
And the knights are sacrificed.

Cause all the music has become so loud
Is this how we go down?
After this beautiful view, you fall off a cliff
Watch your hand full of scars let go, for everything was in demand to be held
Everything but your hand
No songs of yours were ever sang
Poems you never wrote
Wasted passion into the mud
My face into the mud, it ends
It ends.