somewhere in the distance, I see myself in the light
what's in the dark, is whether I'm still alive when illuminated.

rolling hills
buildings of stone
rainy days
peaceful nights
a dark hallway
leading to a candlelit room
books from ceiling to floor
overlooking the countryside
squared windows
and hands over rough pages
warm blankets
sleep.

The wind keeps flailing a leaf in the grass outside my window,
it moves from side to side,
lightly and violently, back and forth,
but it stays in the same spot on the ground.

This leaf is so grounded I begin to feel jealous,
it withstands any gust.

Then, I remember this leaf fell from a tree,
it already lost its battle.

And now it's fighting yet another one.

A never-ending war,
the life after leaving home.

you can't escape your own loneliness
it surrounds you when you walk outside,
around people or alone,
that doesn't particularly matter to you.

you rise, you fall
it doesn't change how you feel inside,
depression doesn't go away no matter how hard you try to get a grip,
it always returns,
no matter how hard you're trying,
the voice in your head is always lying.

don't cry, my dear
it is no use,
and yet tears still flow
and when you stare yourself dead in the eye
pleading yourself to stop
the person in the mirror replies
with a simple shake of the head from left to right
and again, and again
till that same head
falls gently to your hands.

you wipe the tears away,
and look to the sky in the reflection,
but it's empty.