The love of the dark,
The longing of the emptiness,
The sense of calmness in the sleepless nights,
Where else can I find such peace than seeing the coming.
Head sunk in thoughts,
To the paper beneath my fist,
With the smoke from the cigarette,
That would be what I write about.
I did not write to reach people,
But to step away from them,
Continuously struggling away from attachments,
Even if its the right one.
Anyone could be a hero,
Its the day by day action is my kryptonite,
Repeating the same routine,
That shall be the death of me.
-HIY
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 9:34 AM UTC
The love of the dark,
The longing of the emptiness,
The sense of calmness in the sleepless nights,
Where else can I find such peace than seeing the coming.
Head sunk in thoughts,
To the paper beneath my fist,
With the smoke from the cigarette,
That would be what I write about.
I did not write to reach people,
But to step away from them,
Continuously struggling away from attachments,
Even if its the right one.
Anyone could be a hero,
Its the day by day action is my kryptonite,
Repeating the same routine,
That shall be the death of me.
-HIY
