He was chasing love,
Because he didn’t know
What else to chase,
Because he’d had enough
Of his everyday life,
No feelings, just thoughts
No passion, no care,
Half asleep, half the time,
Blurriness clouds his
Mind, hard to sleep when
It’s time, constant

Struggle to find, someone
That he can rely on,
Someone that’ll reply and
Someone that’ll try,
Someone to make a fuss
Over him, someone
That’ll see, the good in him,
His buried happiness,

Hidden by the fake smiles,
Pretending to laugh,
But he didn’t find it funny and
It’s funny because,
The things he does find funny,
Aren’t funny anymore,
Working, eating, meeting,
Normal life’s a bore,
Apart from sleep of course.

laying in bed all alone
while night seeps through window sills and door frames
a sea of never ending darkness
the silence is deafening
as thoughts race past
eventually blurring until
only one remains
why won't it stop
craving any answer
frantically grasping at
what sanity is left
sleep suddenly knocks
at the door
begging to be let in

to think there was a time
flowers would bloom from where i walked
adorning trails towards my destination
marks of grace to which eyes would follow
petals continue to grow, unperturbed —

now, my footsteps just abide
within the corner of their keen eyes,
though blossoms i hastily step on
i continue each defiant stride,
weary knees begging to arrive home
enduring a journey from the path so tedious
i no longer leave traces behind
on asphalt, dismal and porous.

It blooms with sadness
it grows in the wallowing night
calling out with frivolous colors
making me shiver all over again

What day is it?....
Oh... !!!
Why couldn't it be yesterday?!
I survived yesterday.