A million shade of hues,
Blending into one another,
Then why did I decide,
That these various shades of blue
Are what i look good in.

A hundred feelings I could have felt
But I decided to dwell deeply in
This self loathing
When did this sadness take me over,
Its grip so tight that
It's not even poetic anymore

All these words I could have used,
All these topics I could have penned,
But why does everything I write,
Seems to speak words,
That only I can hear-
Save me, save me, pls save me from myself.

A Hundred jewellery
To adorn
Then why did I decide to take
the blade in my hands
And carve these rubies out,
What a terrible contrast
Against my pale skin!

A hundred people
I could have talked to,
A dozen whom I call my friends
Then why is it that at 3pm
I'm scrolling down my tl,
Longing for a connection
I'm not sure exists.

A hundred cemeteries,
For all these ghosts to live in,
And yet they decide to haunt me instead
And why is it that when they're gone,
I almost crave their company?

What have I done to myself?