My wrath is massive.
To not hurt anyone
I keep it locked away.

Now the only one who's hurt by it
is me.

She's scratching.
Unresting and ruthless.
She's crackling and creaking.
Background.
She's sneaking up from behind and bares her teeth.
A horrible grin.

She's ripping my head wide open to grub her ugly nest.

She's
Dipping my eyes in fog.
Stuffing my ears with mud.
Filling my mouth with silence.

She's building her cursed nest.
She's cocooning herself in.

You can't see her.
Yet she's still there lurking.

She's waiting for the right moment.

Then
She will fill your eyes with tears
She will fill your mouth with lies.
She will fill your heart with pain.

She's waiting.

If all the clocks stood still for a whole day I'd pack my bags and take a walk.

As I leave the house I don't check my mail 'cause nobody could reach me anyway this day. I walk down the streets, breathe in the clean air and listen to the sound of silence since there are no cars or people around.

A song forms in my mind, which I sing while walking down my path alone. I reach the park next to my home and look around. Noone's there except the wind fondling the trees and bushes. A few yellow flowers are growing on the meadow, not wondering why they are even there.

I keep on walking, reach a huge square that's totally empty. I pull some chalk out of my backpack and begin drawing on the ground. I take my time drawing while admiring the place in a way I've never been able to before due to all the people and noise.

"Love is the answer, not matter what you're asking.", is written there now for everyone to see. I leave the place, walking on, taking down flags, posters and stickers of fascists and racists on my way, replacing them with rainbows and hearts.

Until the sun sets, I keep walking around, tearing down signs of hatred and building those of love.

As midnight draws nearer I sit down in the park I visited first this day, watching the world starting up again. It starts with clocks ticking, birds singing, the growing sound of voices and vehicles. The others are waking up again, hopefully to notice the traces I've left behind, maybe wonder and think about them.

I hope to have changed anything on this one day I had as my time stops and I fade away leaving a small share of silence.
Finally my clock stood still.

Shoot a bullet.
Shoot a bullet right through my heart
so it will stop beating.
Shoot a bullet right through my brain
so my thoughts stop racing.
Shoot a bullet at me
so I will stop feeling
so I will stop hurting
So I will stop trying.
Shoot a bullet.
Shoot it now.

Depression
is like Spooktober
all the time
except
the funny memes
and decoration.

What if
we were all once made
to shine
like the stars
in the sky?

What if
we were meant
to be beautiful?

What if
we were light?

But then
we got
corrupted.

What if?

Thoughts racing,
trying to fill another page of this book with my story,
sewing in new sheets of paper to build some space.
Space between me and the page saying
The End.

Turning the pages, looking back at some from many years ago.
I read about a little girl, happily exploring the world.
She doesn't know about pain or despair.
Just look at her glowing eyes.

Progressing in the story, a few years later.
I watch a little girl, crying, covered by the blanket.
She doesn't want others to see, 'cause they'll just laugh anyway.
In her home, she has no room.
The whole house is filled with her father yelling.
The whole house is filled with her mother crying.
The only place for her sorrow is deep inside herself.
Just look at her puffy eyes.

Skipping a few chapters, years of searching and hoping.
I hear a little girl, laughing loud.
Nobody heard her screams when she needed them.
At least, when she's being loud, they notice her.
Being lost and out of control she hurts others.
When they scold her, they look at her.
Just look at her pleading eyes.

Going through pages of her trying to understand what she's done.
I hear a little girl swearing she'll never hurt anybody else.
She'd rather hurt herself to cope with the severe cold of this world.
So she builds a wall to keep everyone out,
to trap the wrath inside.
But she forgot the fear was already there.
Just look at her empty eyes.

Flipping the pages to read the ones from a few weeks ago.
I see a little girl drowning in tears and self doubt.
Apparently the wall she built long time ago is still standing strong.
A lot of 'Wanted' posters are hung on it from both sides,
but neither can reach through.
Just look at her anxious eyes.

I'm sitting here crying,
hoping my tears will wash away the letters on these pages.
But they won't.

So I'll keep on sewing pages.
Hoping one day I'll read the one about a girl who's come home.
About a girl who tore down the wall,
about a girl who built a place in a house to live in.
Until then I hope to have enough strength to put
space between me and the page saying
The End.

I grew up in a place where I had no voice.
My voice was so quiet,
The surroundings were so loud,
so I vanished

A voice that can't be heard.
Does it even exist?
Should it even exist?
so i vanished

: grew up in a place where : had no existance.
: was so small,
My surroundings were so big,
so : vanished

An existance that can't be seen.
Does it even exist?
Should it even exist?
so . vanished

What does    voice sound like?
What does    existence feel like?
  don't know.

I'm tired.
I'm tired of running towards
the same closed door every time.
You closed it
and I am unable to open it.
I tried
and it hurt.

I'm disheartened.
I'm disheartened from crashing against
the same huge wall every time.
You built it
and I am unable to climb it.
I tried
and it stung.

I'm sick.
I'm sick of racing after
the same fast car every time.
You drive it
and I am unable to catch up.
I tried
and it pained.

I'm sick and tired of trying,
of hurting
of the sting
of pain.
I'm sick and tired,
but I won't give up.

'Cause maybe one day
someone will open their door for me,
someone will help me climb their wall,
someone will stop and wait for me.
I won't give up.
Someone will.
Someday.

'Yeah sorry, that's just who I am.', you say
as I explain why your behaviour hurt me.
'Yeah sorry, that's just who I am.', you say
as I explain how I feel about what happened.
'Yeah sorry, that's just who I am.', you say
as I explain why I distanced myself from you.

It's not who you are, it's how you behave!


'Yeah sorry, it's cause I'm an ******* sometimes.' you say
as I ask why you treat me like this.
'Yeah sorry, it's cause I'm an ******* sometimes.' you say
as I ask why you theat others like this.
'Yeah sorry, it's cause I'm an ******* sometimes.' you say
as I ask why you still can't see why I feel hurt.

You're not an *******, but you behave like one!


'Yeah sorry, but it's tiring me to talk about it.' you say
as I try to find a way we both are happy with.
'Yeah sorry, but it's tiring me to talk about it.' you say
as I try to find a way to make us understand each other.
'Yeah sorry, but it's tiring me to talk about it.' you say
as I try to find a reason to hold on to you.

You're not tired, you just don't wanna fix anything!


So you took the cheap way out.
Telling me, you don't wanna talk.
I shouldn't stress about it.
We should just get along.
But how can we?


Yeah sorry, keep your lame excuses and walk your path,
but remember, your choice paved the way for me.
Yeah sorry, keep your lame excuses and walk your path,
but remember, your choice made me walk away.
Yeah sorry, keep your lame excuses and walk your path,
but remember, your choice drove me away.


Keep on taking the cheap way out.
Keep on telling me, you don't wanna talk.
I won't stress about it.
'Cause we won't get along.
But maybe we could have?


Yeah sorry, that's just who you are.

This is to you, who's never gone away
Risking your sanity to understand my crooked mind
Unraveling my thoughts I'm spreading out infront of you
Searching for my hope when I misplace it
This is to you
.

Indefatigably believing in me

Listening to the words I can barely phrase
Owner of my trust and deepest passion
Voive in my endless silence
Everything I could ever wish for

You're the one who's rescuing me
Over and over
Unlike anyone I've known before
.

I will never be everything for him.
He will never be everything for me.
I will never be able to heal his scars.
He will never be able to take away my pain.
I will never be able to soothe his insecurities.
He will never be able to dry all my tears.

We will never be able to change the past.
But we are able to change our future.

We don't have to be everything.
'Cause we are enough.
Enough for each other.

even
the
main
character
of
my
own
story
?