My mind is filled up with thoughts, like a gun filled with bullets a gun that is broken so the bullets only killed the shooter.
My mind is filled up with gray clouds that are ready to rain and sink my whole world down, clouds that are filled with thunderstorms and lighting, but they always end up harming me, they end up killing me every single time.
I haven’t been good for so long, but no one ever noticed, but haven’t they known by now that clouded skies with no rain is never a good sign? Or do i have to rain every time for them to notice that I’m slowly but surely losing myself?
I wondered, i wonder and It seems that I’ll keep on wondering if I’ll ever be enough?
Or if I’ll ever be the only canvas in an art museum-foolish of me to ever hope that.
I’ve been drinking recently and smoking all day long, in hope that in that way I’d kill all my thinking brain cells, because how else can you beat your own brain?
How can you ever win a battle , a battle that you’re killing parts of yourself in order to revive other parts?
A place where its supposed to be my home, my safe place but it was never safe in the first place for it become safe as i got older, a safe place that i tried to end, that i tried to tear it apart multiple times, a place where i feel like my soul is stuck on-and if you own skin doesn’t feel like home, you’ll forever be homeless.
And perhaps the real reason why i never felt like i belonged to it, is because it was never mine in the first place, it was never mine to be kept in, never mine to love, and never mine to protect.
And perhaps I’m nothing but a free soul, trying to break free from the cage that it’s been in for so long, perhaps all i have to do it trying to beat it down for one more time in order to end the war, in order for the sun to shine, and for the grass to be greener.
And perhaps while killing the parts that i hate in myself, I’ll end up killing all the parts.
Bittersweet love 