Born quick-witted, but now too tired to speak,
This world drags me down into silence so deep.
The people, their words, like soil in my veins,
Until I couldn’t breathe, now I just feel the chains.
I sink into bed, a prisoner to the voices,
No escape, no choices.
I once begged the sun to tear through the night,
But even that struggle feels too far from sight.
Once a typhoon, I raged, I drowned in its form,
Now the rain softly falls, dulled and worn.
It seeps into my skin, a quiet decay,
Lingering forever, with nothing left to say.
Oct 8, 2024
Oct 8, 2024 at 4:14 PM UTC
Born quick-witted, but now too tired to speak,
This world drags me down into silence so deep.
The people, their words, like soil in my veins,
Until I couldn’t breathe, now I just feel the chains.
I sink into bed, a prisoner to the voices,
No escape, no choices.
I once begged the sun to tear through the night,
But even that struggle feels too far from sight.
Once a typhoon, I raged, I drowned in its form,
Now the rain softly falls, dulled and worn.
It seeps into my skin, a quiet decay,
Lingering forever, with nothing left to say.
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