Painting abstract and expressive often on formats quite impressive when my use of red is too excessive I get agitated and feel a bit aggressive might as well do my taxes, so depressive then I start tidying or other things obsessive eventually a cup of tea can feel decompressive
do you feel like an abandoned house? i swear sometimes it is just painful to breathe. i told him i felt daggers inside my lungs each time the air entered my body. air is life itself, all of us need it - but then why is my body rejecting it? because i am an abandoned house -my air hasn't moved for ages and it just rests - stale and comfortable. eating dust. creating these invisible angry daggers.
do you feel like you have been lying to yourself? lying is a comfort and a privilege that all of us can have.. which is a whole contradiction in of itself. i have been thinking about it quite a lot. i have been thinking about the invisible daggers in the air - they are impossible to clean nobody sees them. and they are so vengeful - a quiet sort of rage, caused by neglect.
After someone gives up on their life there are always many to wonder "why?" or say "I can't see a reason!" when the answer was right in front of them sometimes for years and they just let it all slide.
I don't recognize this face in the mirror, this didn't use to be me, what am I? How far away am I? All the damage I've seen, all the harm I've done, maybe I deserve to be uncertain. All the life has been ****** out of me, I might've done this to myself, I could be held accountable. I try to be smart enough to show what's inside, I don't believe I am, no words seem to be enough to show what I mean. Is this all just selfish of me? Narcissism, is it what this is all about? Not everything is about me, why do I feel all the pain? Can anyone tell me what this is all about? I'm scared, hopeless, and alone. Every sentence might be the last.
All my stuff might as well be tagged sad or depressive.
While you might look at the months ahead and see feasts, and shared tables, and celebratory treats, and memories made in the kitchen. I see hours needed on the treadmill, and calories needing to be logged, and pounds gained, and hours crying on the bathroom floor. I no longer see the holidays as a joyous time full of laughs but rather as a 3 month long depressive purge.
Have you ever wondered Why we are here? On this planet, being plundered By our emotions, by our carrier Being lonely but still bothered Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial
Our lives can be definied as a trial A trial, which we hardly desire Which we just cannot admire But somehow i still don’t see the denial- People who may wanna be a fighter Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial
The word is just not what it would be Everything seems to be immemorial And unless,the human race is free We just can’t belive that our trial Has drawn to a close - but maybe Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial
Seeking for the meaning of life and just feel like an extraterrestrial