I wonder if in years & years after my demise someone would read my written piece & look up to the skies & wonder how my life had been or where I am today & keep my soul a memory a million miles away.........
Perfectionism is solely imperfect We can't change what is meant to be This dimension's truly a synchronized mess & we're confused to the worst degree. Neither appearance nor soul will adhere to the role, or that ideally flawless pitch you've got ready in your head- the stereotypical switch that you subconciously await the time you achieve perfection -won't be met until you're dead.
Midnight timelapse of the day; a chaotic flasback - pandemonium I'd grow Griffin wings & fly away Off of lifes manic grip - a restless podium Where the spotlight burns my eyelids sore Profoundly fatigued, deep to the core These complications that I can't ignore I want to hit snooze & snore some more.
A day in the life of a student......victims to the exhausting education system
2000's baby just turned 17 but I'm either 5 or 55 & there's no in between. One starry collision - gone Supernova, created a cosmic being never-ending nova. 365 X 17 days on Earth 3 yrs till, 2 decades in being. Time flew unforeseen - from the moment of birth Forever a childish soul... though each minute is eternally fleeing.
A mural of faint galaxies behind my eyelids vaguely sparkle like the static of tv - it isn't darkness nor is it imagery... It's nothing but, what is nothing? Like bedsheets pulled over the pupil & iris staring at a ceiling of subtly glitching galaxies
I keep trying to refuse these feelings But everytime I beg them to go away They find new places to invade The more I turn from them The more they grow The more I pull at them The deeper they go Like the roots of an ancient tree They tangle deep inside my heart So deep that I can't pull them out