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tia Oct 1
"my body is tired with torn hands
I want to be perfect, more and more
but nothing changes, it only ever hurts"

"when will you be happy?"

"never... I live miserably,
wanting to work myself to exhaustion
waiting for death's release of this worthless vessel
that hates me deeply
perishing underneath dirt and pebble
no one will want me, need me
I will be forgotten and my ideals of perfection soon to be rotten"
Alja Aug 20
I am so miserable
while waiting for your text
I am so miserable
while knowing that you are the one thing I will never have
I am so miserable
you are the only thing I think about
I am so miserably in love with you
are you miserable too
The books I read,
The songs I listen to...
All fill me with envy
Such lives they have
Filled with feelings and emotions
I would die to feel
My insides are numb
As if turned to stone
My mind's dead,
My heart asleep
I carry on like a machine
I want to escape my life
Where are you?

I am in the midst. Of nowhere—of mislaid sanity. I am frightened of who I am shifting into plunged in Iliad.

Where the sequence of misfits and my torments combined; I am so depleted. So broken—who am I pursuing? Sparkling eyes, igniting palms—they were showing up tricks on me.

They were here. Watching me—they outgrow wings like a slipped angel: descended from grace. Their eyes glittering into mine—slowing ticking blasts, so I'd still have time—to endure every bleeding, the state of my miserable hovel.

Where are you?

I am in the midst. Of being lost and being formed. I am in the pilgrim of my dreams—a wayfarer in the desert.

“Where the shore clashes and the stallion whimper at the sprinkle's coolness, I will get you there.”

I am a sightseer in the spot—where the faint could not be obtained; as I stray and travel, I knew this is who I am developing into.

To discover you in the forsaken as a wayfarer—in strange seasons: a tourist, ahead of time—a butterfly in the coming age.

A warrior in the cage; a threat to them: the shadows in the deceased.

“Where the shore clashes and the stallion whimper at the sprinkle's coolness, I will find you there.”

To meet you is to be lost.
To be created is to be miserable.
Being whole is to be broken.

And there, I found you.
Being lost means being found.
but aren't we all
sad and miserable—
trying to live life
as if we know how?

until when
do we really have
to put on an act
that we're just fine?

how pitiful we are
(you're rather strong)
struggling desperately
to survive—

trying not to peek
at the easy way out.
(i'm proud of you)
Hi there
It’s 1:17 and i’m trying to sleep
But all of a sudden you come across my mind
It’s wonderful isn’t it
We were once strangers
Never once i thought it’d be miserable if we don’t talk
Never crossed my mind that it’d be you the one i’m looking for when nightmares come
I thank god and i thank the universe that we met
The first time i laid my eyes on you,
didn’t know they would be the one i’m looking for after a rough day
The first time those laughs came out of that mouth,
didn’t know it’d be the one i missed in the middle of the night starring at the ceiling
I’m so grateful that you happen to be the one
I once stopped wishing people to stay
But never once i stopped wishing on you
I love you
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