Fishing for impudence
looking outside,
all seem so murky
with a dying light,
all seem so monochrome,
with a condescending benight.
Now I am looking closely
and all that I found,
was a hatred very symmetric,
to which I am bound.
Just like the voids
I see in myself,
maybe my lens is too murky,
or my windows blacked out,
but life is miserable
and I see it around.
I often try to deny,
and live like everything’s fine,
but some feelings never settle,
some actions don’t suffice.
I look for answers around
I look for meanings behind,
maybe it’s a different me,
or maybe it’s the defeated mind.
Thoughts never to settle,
when I write sometimes,
but facing your fears,
through the words you write
is more difficult than accepting the light.
I often try to view this,
in a stupidly optimistic hue,
thinking like a flower
proud of its scent and bloom.
Thinking I am unique and
so might be my issues,
but I don’t want to look around
cause inside I know,
I am part of the million others
that bloomed and withered in this garden too.
My problems don’t amount
to the privileges I own,
and pain might be puny
when compared to yours,
but I still get hurt,
even if my problems aren’t new,
I still want to say them,
even when my words are few.
All these words are static just like my thoughts.
