He lied so casually;
Such little meaning in such big statements.
When he said “I love you”, did he ever truly mean it?
Has he ever meant anything? Was his whole being merely a facade?
Chasing the answers;
Does he ever truly wish to find them?
He finds depressive thoughts comforting;
So lost in self-pity, he loves to feel sadness.
Something to hold deep within.
He bleeds words onto paper, too afraid to bleed in the open;
An ever-spiraling cycle.
He knows his demons are many;
He knows his demons are self-made.
Depression grips him, as depression is relief.
Is the world even real when his thoughts are so inward and selfish?
Lost. Lost. Lost.
Do I want to be found?
Do I want to find myself?
I think not; I fear I am not the person I would like to be.
When did he turn into me?
How did this happen?
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
He lied so casually;
Such little meaning in such big statements.
When he said “I love you”, did he ever truly mean it?
Has he ever meant anything? Was his whole being merely a facade?
Chasing the answers;
Does he ever truly wish to find them?
He finds depressive thoughts comforting;
So lost in self-pity, he loves to feel sadness.
Something to hold deep within.
He bleeds words onto paper, too afraid to bleed in the open;
An ever-spiraling cycle.
He knows his demons are many;
He knows his demons are self-made.
Depression grips him, as depression is relief.
Is the world even real when his thoughts are so inward and selfish?
Lost. Lost. Lost.
Do I want to be found?
Do I want to find myself?
I think not; I fear I am not the person I would like to be.
When did he turn into me?
How did this happen?
The lines between fantasy and reality are so blurred. Paenitentia.
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