The colour of sadness is not dark
On the contrary it's one of the brightest colours ever
Yet everyone perceives it differently
And among people noone ever settles

White just like the clouds that day
That passed over my head
My eyes were red and puffy
And blue tear rolled down my neck

Yellow sun mercilessly burned my face
Trees with last leaves hanging
Laughed at my expense
And waved as I passed their lanes





Happy. Delightful. ******* annoying.
I don't care anymore
For me there's that one colour
What is yours?

It would be fine to hide under a blanket
Warm, sleep inducing, small
My non existant anxiety would be actually gone
And I would be a king of it all

But like in the mornings, a person pulled my blanket away
And left me to deal with another harsh day

I bite my nails to paint the letters red
Calligraphy ******* compare to delicate craft such as this
Fingers, like burning candles, shorten by hours
Everyone has a count of their uses
Long has passed since I touched the paper with passion
Since I carressed it with eyes and poured my potential
Do I even have some left?
Or did the stream end long time ago?
Or I'm just digging at the old river bed?

I learned how to count
Now I see the hurt it brought me
I obsess over numbers
I count these likes daily

To write is to atone
For the mistake of leaving you alone

Yes, it's for you.

If I write my poem here,
Will you read it?
Will you feel my pain?
Or just beat it?

I'm selfish for being a writer,
I'm so proud that I consider myself one,
But still I hope that you can relate to me,
Atleast a bit...I'm not asking for a lot.

So please, aleast you stay,
And hopefully brighten my day...