Oftentimes
I feel alone
standing
in the midst
of a crowd,
and the only friends
I have are
the demons
inside my head.
I try as hard as I can
to run away
from the inevitable,
just to find myself
trap in a corner
so vulnerable
and helpless.
I am a prisoner
of my own thoughts,
a prey of my own emotions,
a puppet of anger and guilt
hiding behind a facade
of happiness.

I gaze upon a billion stars
under the cool breeze of the wind.
With the city lights and buzzing cars,
the cold penetrating my skin.

My body yearning for heat
as the cold penetrate my bones.
I look down to my feet
and realized I was all alone.

I knocked on a door,
but no one's there.
Have I been here before?
In the brink of despair.

"Will I die alone?"
I asked myself.
I was frozen like a stone,
grasping for help.

Then I saw a light,
someone's calling my name.
Momentarily blurred my sight,
it was hope burning its flame.

In the dying days of my youth
the vivid colors
that my eyes can see
and the lucid imaginations
that my mind can imagine
are starting to fade,
as I arouse from a hazy dream
I realized how murky reality can be.
It has numb my soul
and corrupted my mind
making me wish to turn back time,
when I haven't drowned from my thoughts,
when I was still innocent
and know so little of the world around me.
Now, every step I take
leads me to the unknown.
But I know I have to keep moving
hoping to find calmness once again
in what seems to be
a lifetime of chaos.

We drink bottles
after bottles
of happiness
to the very last drop,
until we pass out.
Then wake up sober
and realized
how dreary we are.

To forget
the moments
we shared,
to decimate
any recollections
of what we had
and what
we used to be,
is to bury
the undying.