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L Oct 2019
I feel like I'm trapped, keep turning and turning.
Can I get off? Please, 
my stomach is churning.
I feel so sick- no, numb- these days it's hard to tell.

All I know is that yesterday I fell, I did so today and last week too, into this void I keep meeting.
Things just keep on repeating,
                                  repeating,
                                  repeating.
I don't know who I am anymore,
a stranger to myself, head stranded amongst permanent war.

I'm stuck at the fair, on this carousel of life, but this doesn't feel like living, more like survival.
Both the reaper and future seem to demand my arrival.

The fairground lights, I used to love, 
blind me now, in my fragile state, all it will take is a simple shove:
for me to shatter and to break.
It feels like I'm stuck in an infinite nightmare, pleading to wake:
where the candyfloss is bittersweet,
tainted by the memories of monsters I'm yet to beat.

Can I get off now, please?

It was fine at first, but now I miss being able to feel, 
the colours, the trees:
they're gone,
replaced with shadows and greys,
I'm not sure how much longer I'll last: I'm losing my mind, stuck in this maze.
Spinning too fast to see the world, the one that used to bring me bliss and peace, 
greeted now only by a blur, a smudged painting of better days, a broken masterpiece.

Please,
I’m stuck in a cycle and I can’t break out:

and I'm tired, tired of having no-one hear me shout.
-L
(Unedited)
L Oct 2019
Life is great, life is fine,

but it doesn’t feel like mine.

Feel like a fraud, a masked actor,
my script is gone and, I forgot one factor-

The mask will fall and the play will end.

Then where will I be? Counting down the hours till I- ‘go round the bend’


I’m done with being a passenger, taking a backseat in my own life.


Constantly waiting for my guide to knock- take me
down to the afterlife.

But-

am I too lost, lost among the colors, amongst the greys?

Stuck in a cycle of my destructive ways,

and if so- how?  How do I stop?

Feeling like I need my own personal repair shop.

Someone to pick up the pieces when the stack of cards fall down,


the joker looking up at me- smile, turned to a frown.

He’s got no reason now to laugh- I’m wasting away my days- and I know it too.

I want to turn it all around but now even all the good memories are tainted blue,

the colour of melancholy seeping all over like a starry sky.

Pretty at first but then I remember:
That all the stars are going to die.

Just like you, just like me.

And I don’t know what scares me more, the thought of dying - or the way it makes me feel so free.

Maybe that’s why I feel so trapped, homesick for a place I’ve never been-

even if my life is great and the grass is green-

to me it all looks the same.

Happiness seems so far in the distance, an ever-dying flame,

I would run, through the tears, through the rain- just to light a single, feeble match
but-

how can I when I’m always so tired and a voice whispers- ‘there’s a catch.’

Life is great, life is fine.

But...

I’m really not so sure it is this time.


I don’t know who I am,
my feet on the ground, my head in space,

I can’t help but feel like everything is flying past at an unbearable pace-


Maybe that’s me- who I am- a stranded astronaut, with a faulty helmet-

an outsider on earth,  above too overwhelming.

My oxygen tank is slowly running out-

but I can’t find it within me to care- let alone shout.
Unedited

-L.

— The End —