Confined to my own mind'
-thoughts start to feel claustrophobic
While thinking of all the prettiest of things,
the pettiest of emotions are made of thorns,
And I picture them as a bundle of roses,
as I longed of chasing every dream, before
the crack of dawn, but in between all of those cracks,
All of those very dreams have left me broken.

The loneliest place, -is like not missing home
yet never truly finding happiness in my current
surroundings; as if one wasn't the loneliest  number,
I at times find myself living it all for two,
carrying the weight of solitude for both.

Still hoping I could grow wings to fly above
all of my troubles.

But instead, the days grew colder,
and I found myself caught in the clutches of a flu.
A reminder that even in the depths of my own mind,
I couldn't escape the harsh realities of life.