So this is what my life has become
Waiting for a message
Waiting for something
to make my dull life exciting
Waiting for sth that I know that will never come
Is it worth waiting for?

The touch of the sunlight,
the warmth of the water
dancing around our ankles,
smell the salt in the air,
fresh and clean and pure.
Little tastes of happiness.
But it's never enough for you.

You think that happiness is a state,
like liquid or gas, something you stay in.
But happiness is in the fleeting moments,
the laughter of friends,
hot chocolate, sweet and smooth
with little marshmallows.

Dancing in the rain,
wearing your favorite shirt,
a walk through the woods,
a hug just a little longer than usual,
the warmth of someone else's arms.
These fleeing moments are
where you find happiness.

To be honest,
when I ran my hands through the flame,
I somewhat hoped that I would catch fire
and turn to ashes,
to blow away in the wind
and never come back.
*but it just burned

The sun sets too early.
There's never enough light
to keep the darkness at bay.
Golden warmth against chilling black,
I begged the sun never to leave.
There's never enough light,
and there's even less hope
to win the war
when my source of light
has run away.

The world is obsessed with forced positivity
and everyone is afraid to feel anything else
for fear that their emotions are wrong,
invalid,
unjustified,
because you're not allowed to feel
anything but
happy

I am a prisoner
of the present.

The monotony of cacophony
subdues the depth of calm.
The tyranny of sound
will not cease and desist.

But for a moment I am free:
I hear nothing; I feel nothing.

         Sanity.

            At least that's how I perceive it,
But only for that moment.

A single engine's burst
or the song which birds chirp
reinstate the madness
from which I run.

I suppose this is being human.
I should have been a cloud.