I suffered in silence,
but my gates were always
opened to help,
no one tried to sneak in,
no one tried to see in my eyes,
no one tried to look through the
broken ceiling of my house,
I was painting my walls
with grey and black
all this while,
while looking through that broken ceiling,
everyone's colorful walls made
me crumbled and I fell.

I visited that place
where I was the loneliest,
Where I became a corpse,
Where I wasn't me but
like mirror glass,
Only reflection!
my presence was just
my hopeless depression.

I talk to my cats,
to the shadows on the wall,

I talk to myself,
or I don't talk at all.

I'm swirling in thoughts
that won't stay away.

I spend far too much time
wasted this way.

Stuck somewhere between
depressed and numb,

My only reprieve,
sitting in the sun.

Moments while the rays
illuminate my skin

I don't feel so trapped,
I dont feel shut in.

If night would've been a girl,
I would've married her.
Night is beautiful,
don't look at her darkness, inside her,
it's her beauty that only those can see
who have sat with her.

I can see how pretty she gets
the darker she gets,
I have touched her
and she touched me too,
I have listened her
and she listened me too.

She made me hers
and I made her mine.
She made me feel I'm not alone
as she let me accompany her.
I love the way she stares at me
like I'm only hers.

- shivamrealmyself

Sleepless night!
those who are sleeping tight
tell me how do you sleep
without thinking
and sleep so light
don't you have any thoughts?

I'm getting back my rhythm,
that flow that I missed,
kissed the wrong list,
I got so ******.

Punctured my own wheels,
walked up to the hills on heels,
got so tired, readily busted,
Nothing so far tested.

Preoccupied with disastrous hallucination,
I lost my sheer imagination.
took so many turns,
unguided blindly got hit by the red district.

So sorry, I missed my hit list.
Strange, where I got to sit next to the stranger,
followed the footsteps of my demons wicked derringer.

Oh my god, I've lost my mind, it's better to sleep,
Look who is talking, the loser who got easily broke and now he weeps.
Now I'm sleeping, not writing,  although I've got the rhythm and would try to write
better next time.

- shivamrealmyself