Sometimes he stares so hardly at the clock
And he wishes he could make the hour hand move in an anticlockwise motion
To when he always had a smile on his face
To when he could actually smile under the beautiful silvery color of every full moon
To when he didn’t have to adapt to any environment
To when he didn’t have to be mister no face
To when he didn’t have to understand everything
To when he was never numb
To when angels weren’t in disguise
To when crazy was a beautiful word
To when time and tide waited for man
To when true colors were the only colors that existed
To the world that moved in a clockwise direction
But now he can't breathe
He feels suffocated by himself and the world around
Oxygen passing through his nostrils but yet no inhalation is made
Where is the world he used to dwell in?
Why does he always feel like something's missing?
Why are his mind and heart so distant from each other?
He can't breathe
Get him out of this prison
This prison of a world in which he always feels tortured and broken by his own thoughts
The one which keeps him locked underneath his skin
Hopeless is the language his mind speaks to him
He can't breathe
Get him back to the old times
Times when he didn't have to patch the holes that are presently in his heart
Times when he was a good boy
Times when his nightmares were just nightmares
Times when i was me
Times when I could breathe
The faded times of yesterday.