It's hard to think about my future,
When I'm trapped in my past,
Screaming for some freedom,
But no-one can help me,
I am the one with the keys.

If clouds were always silvery white,
and sorrow were pretend

If every pursuit aligned with what was planned

If struggle were mere fiction, or simply undefined

How would we not also leave true happiness behind?

If everything were beautiful,
then what would beauty be?

Would we know that we were blind if we could never see?

The perfect dusk will wait for you until you've closed your eyes

But if each new day is empty, then what good is paradise?

I'm not afraid anymore
Ever since you told me
It is not weak to cry
Something opened up
Inside of me
A void finally
Touched by light

i watch the ink run down my arm
the pen, writing the feelings
i could never explain with words;
sitting on my bathroom floor
never led to anything
but unwanted art