He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

Writing is
my escapism,
It's as if
I was a director
in a movie,
creating stories
with the flick of
a finger,
changing meaning
and stirring
emotions into
a beautiful mess
of felt daydreams
Erasing mistakes in
a matter of seconds,
feeling the
sense of mixed relief
and inspiration.

...But I can't live in
my stories.
Because alas,
everything in life
never lives up to
my expectations.

It's all getting so mess. everything.
I hate the fact that my sun is hiding behind the dark clouds.
My dearest beautiful sun.

Imma punch all of the sinner.
They were so mean.
There are so many trash within their mouth.
They mocked my sun thus making my sun keep on thinking that it's shine not good enough.

I wish that they could see this.
I wish that they could feeling the sadness tho.

"winter is coming" they said.
"agree" i replied, 'cause i started overthinking about relationships with my friends.
i understood that i have not lots of friends to trust that i used to believe and it's fine. it's better to live when scales are fallen from the eyes.

you invited me to dinner, lovingly.

a lavishing one.

excited we both are.

you asked to go to the restroom.

i agreed and waited patiently.

knowing we have the most delicious steak being made and i’m excited to eat it together with you.

but you went through the window of the restroom and never came back.

here i am waiting, patiently, lovingly.

As the call ended
So did we
Between our phones
Not only the connection broke
But also the hearts,
that were connected as well

He is fire
But that fire could be perfect fit for hell

Well,

don’t be tempted by the devil
Our kind of dance
would be forbidden whatsoever

Only if the devil agreed and took me to his chambers
loved me and cherished my existence

But he did not see, nor did he hear
He left me hanging to my tears

i want to delete all the memories
just like i did with all our pictures
i want to forget our history
and act like we're strangers
i don't want to miss you anymore
i want to get over you and close the door
i know you're not missing me
i know this is how it's meant to be