White walls, blank looks,
scattered papers and messy thoughts -
that is what my life consists of right now.
And birds are probably chirping outside
in the spring sun and people are gathering
together in song and in meal and in love.
But I find no interest.
I look forward at the white walls
that have turned beige and the blank looks
that have transformed into sleepy stares,
and I cannot pinpoint the one thing
that is getting me by.
I live to....
what?
To sleep all day to escape the noise and
stay up all night to waste time with silence.
The one thing I despised became
the only thing that kept its promise.
There are papers on the floor and
old clothes on my back and
I can't seem to blink without trying.
For the life of me,
I want to feel alive again;
I want to see the bird chirping and the sun set.
I want to taste the breeze hitting
my cheeks flushing them red,
and for life to kiss my lips as if
they were wishing me goodnight.
But instead, I see white walls
and blank looks.
Scattered thoughts are being binged
on scattered sheets of paper
in hopes of getting rid of the voices in my head.
They do not forget to make you remember.
And the whispers are getting louder:
"Close your eyes for a bit darling, even if you want them shut forever."
gd