I always find myself randomly waking up at 2 AM, it's become a constant occurrence at this point and I don't understand why it happens. I don't always enjoy it, especially when I'm already tired, but sometimes it's pretty peaceful, like this time was carved especially for me to write or read or do whatever makes me happy. Or maybe I'm just romanticising my insomnia ****.
*I might also change the title because I'm not a huge fan but I couldn't think of anything else.*
(P.S. you can follow me on instagram, if you'd like to @sykmusings ♡)
lavender, lilac, and strawberry I taste energy like yours rarely make my cheeks redder than cherry you have an essence, it is a blessing you taught me lessons, such a blessing I thought I was unlovable you showed me the contrary make me sing like the giddy canary was too used to solitary read my feelings like a library
the room is suffocating, I am spiraling I thought this was my season but I am unwell there's so much I want but so little I have I feel like I am stuck at the bottom of a well can see the light and life above but I remain in my broken shell I want to feel even a little bit more secure I want to smile and sing with the birds my foundation is shaky, my will is breaking waiting for someone to save me I tried to save myself with no help I tried to love myself to no help I tried to do it alone with no help I tried to run from it all with no help I just really want to be held I just really want to be felt make the most of these cards I was dealt
Somewhere in the sands of time, I hear the sound of a faithful cry.. from a bird with broken wings who sings "my hope will never die!".. His chances are less than average. He's a candle in a hurricane. Still he bows beaneath the storm and he sings louder amidst the rain. He knows what he'd become if it were not for his broken wings.. He'd probably make a nest of thorns and fill it up with shining things. He might say "I'll sing tomorrow" - But tomorrow might never come.. And the only awful song would be a song that he never sung. And what would he become when his soul no longer sings? So, he sings his songs of gratitude all the more with his broken wings..
Incubus Drive is when me and the neighbours fall out it's not just the volume furniture moving bass but I have to sing full shout I know all the words you see cos I played it so many ******* times it's ingrained on my beer brain all my inhibitions blown out I'm on stage in front of the microphone air guitar I'm no Brandon Boyd but by Christ I'm on fire tonight
To the dancer in the dark: what you do isn't a walk in the park. So don't be afraid to let someone shine a light on you. To the singer in the shower: you know as well as anyone how music can heal. So let people hear your power. To the sketchbook artist: one person's trash is another's treasure. So, please: don't throw something away even if it doesn't give you pleasure. To everyone else: you all had dreams at some point. If you're friends with artists, respect the hustle. Respect the passion. Help keep the dream alive. Because dreaming is still how the strong survive. But they can't do it all alone.
I listen to your heart Beat in rhythm to the rain Pouring out somber melodies. The world drapes silent, Where your eyes sing Meteor shower wonders. Sometimes, It feels too much to grasp, Tied to an endless Invisible string around my palm.