I so badly want to be a galaxy filled with constellations from a different universe.
I so badly want to see a different sun. Taste a different ocean.
Feel a different moonlight.
I crave new experiences, but I so badly want to be that new experience.
I've grown so tired of my mistakes
I've grown so tired of my regret.
Of mountains of memories I wish I could forget.
My fingers are like matches constantly trying to burn everything of my past and my tongue like water extinguishing the flames.
Instead filling the buckets of regret.
I am actions on actions of please, god, no.
I am living in the moment and never enjoying as much as I lead people to believe.
Someone take me somewhere else.
Let me become someone else.
I no longer know what I've become, all I am aware of is that I'd rather suffer an unknown destiny on the sun than continue to suffocate in my regrets.
I do not ponder like man on moon.
I do not swallow suns.
I do not spit fire or breathe poisonous gas.
I am neither soft cloud, nor hard volcanic rock.
I am mangled in all the worst ways.
My eyes are never wallowing pools of crystal clear waters nor murky puddles of mud.
They are despair upon despair.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 9:44 PM UTC
I so badly want to be a galaxy filled with constellations from a different universe.
I so badly want to see a different sun. Taste a different ocean.
Feel a different moonlight.
I crave new experiences, but I so badly want to be that new experience.
I've grown so tired of my mistakes
I've grown so tired of my regret.
Of mountains of memories I wish I could forget.
My fingers are like matches constantly trying to burn everything of my past and my tongue like water extinguishing the flames.
Instead filling the buckets of regret.
I am actions on actions of please, god, no.
I am living in the moment and never enjoying as much as I lead people to believe.
Someone take me somewhere else.
Let me become someone else.
I no longer know what I've become, all I am aware of is that I'd rather suffer an unknown destiny on the sun than continue to suffocate in my regrets.
I do not ponder like man on moon.
I do not swallow suns.
I do not spit fire or breathe poisonous gas.
I am neither soft cloud, nor hard volcanic rock.
I am mangled in all the worst ways.
My eyes are never wallowing pools of crystal clear waters nor murky puddles of mud.
They are despair upon despair.
