Quiet desperation for the bliss of change.
Cold comfort is painful, home feels strange.
Ah taking the lashing of repressed days.
Loss of all passion, I'm stuck in the maze.

________

Still awake at 3 am
Listening to a mellow song
Waiting for the sun to rise
Holding back the tears in my eyes

Still up at 3 am
Doing some flashback
What happened to us
A love that I fully trust

Still sleepless at 3 am
"It's not you it's me" your voice still echoing
My heart was ripped in thousand pieces
And seems was drop into different places

Still not in bed at 3 am
Holding a bottle of beer
Wishing it can help me heal
Hoping it can erase what I feel

Still wide awake at 3 am
Maybe it just don't fit right at all
Waiting for the sun to rise for me to traces
To start anew and pick up... my broken heart pieces...



written: Oct. 7, 2014

Mysterious Aries

To love and to be in love are very different.

You see,
I am an artist

I draw with silver
But it comes out red

I stand. Surrounded by the darkness
That I create.
I wave it away.
It hovers out of reach.
Close enough to been seen,
Far enough away to relax.
Fear, doubt, anxiety.
Fear, clawing.
Doubt, with sharp teeth.
Anxiety, with its insect touch.
And lord of all, depression,
With his dark cloak ready
To blot out the light.

Squaring shoulders.
Narrowing of eyes.
I stand, drawing a sword of light,
Names engraved on the blade.
They give me strength.
The ones that depend on me to
Never quit, never submit, never stop.

And yet, no matter how the fight ends
I stand.
They stand. We stare at each other.
Stalemate.
For now.
I will never quit.
Nor will they. They are part of me.

Where I was, was bad,
But where I am is worse.
I feel like they’re taking away who I am,
Filling my bloodstream with anti-depressants,
Forcing me to become someone I’m not
Someone I don’t want to be.
The fact remains that my sadness defined me
Struggling against the medication
Desperately attempting to hold onto the part of me that’s me
Wanting so badly for my days to mean something
Instead of the same bland depressing schedule I face everyday
The pills do nothing but supress my suicidal thoughts to my subconcious
So I'm forced to fake a smile, one unlike any other.
This one is to keep them from increasing my dosage,
And I'm scared.
I've never felt so alone
This is what I get
For asking for help

Little discs used to make us happy
Like miniature frisbys flying into our mouths
Getting lost in the trees
The branches tangled and knotted
Unable to escape.