And suddenly, I was lost in the moment.
Don’t know where to be find.
It was the time of depression that swallowed me.
Betrayed, estimated, bloodsucked, and fooled,
Things matched with my name.
Then I felt something so wrong.
It was my downfall.
I lost everything, I lost myself.
They were gone, unexpectedly.
I was gone.
There’s no way out. No way.
I was almost dying.
No one has to save me. No one.
I was almost not cured.
I kneeled for no good reason. No good reason.
I pretended that I can. And maybe I really could.
I was also back. With twisted boom and vengeance.
You write, And nothing’s special.
Look at yourself, You think you’re good? Who told you that you are? You’re not potent. Yes, you aren’t. You’re only dramatic. You’re just full of execration. You’re so talentless. You’re not enough. People will never choose you.
I pity you. You share nothing. What you do aren’t impressive. Apparently not. You’re just a trash. Your pieces just deserves to be rumpled. You’re words are redundant and irrelevant, extraneous and impertinent . They won’t see anything in you. And they will never choose you.
You’re just a quite and big dismay. You’re only nothing.
So stop making things you can’t really do. Hypocrite.
It sings for my ears. But it talks to my heart. It shakes me by my fears. And shoots me like board of a dart.
It brings back all the memories. And wakes me up of things I can’t find. It’s not my happiness. Why I feel like I’m blind?
But I don’t want to stop this melancholy. Even though I am so trap. I’d rather burst totally. Instead of fooling myself by bluff.
Lyrics is heartache. Tune is heartbreak. My emotion is not fake. My mind is in earthquake.
It’s painful. It’s kinda tragic. It’s playful. The power of music.
I am fragile.
I am fractured.
I am torn.
I am broken.
But with all that, gave me the power to use my paper slips and ink.
I write down what I feel.
And now, I’m drowning with words. Magic arises.
My mind is full of ideas.
Madness, anger, insanity all broke down into tiny pieces as I convert them into art.
My eyes stops from crying.
My heart stops from bleeding.
And my soul runs away from all the mess that sorrounded me once.
Unstoppable. Unpredictable. Pain is inevitable. But I escape. Alone.
I am. The writer, Unknown.
Why do we need to fall in love if it brings nothing but pain?
If it brings heavy weight to carry?
If it leads to late nights of crying and tears?
If it locks us in a cage of hidden feelings and darkness?
Why do we need to fall in love and be broken?
To be torn?
To be hurt?
To be alone?
Why do we need to fall in love with the person who can never love us back?
And believe at things which ain’t true?
And look at the most impossible possibilities?
And think of chances that will never ever come?
Why do we need to fall in love for no good reason?
Why to fall for nothing?
You’re my smiles and you’re my tears.
You’re my laughs and you’re my shouts.
You’re my happiness and you’re my sadness.
You’ve been a sweet honesty,
But all that, turned into perfectly pretty, beautiful lies.
You came as I was in emptiness but you left me alone, still trap darkness.
And now I’m Insane…
And you’re my insanity.
Yet you don’t know.
You’re screaming but they can’t hear.
You’re drowning but they can’t descry.
With people in hideous,
No one cares about your tears.
No one cares about your cries.
No one cares about your pain.
Only you and you can save yourself away from that distress.
It’s always there, it’s always around.
I feel like he’s sticked with my feet.
He never want to get away from me. No, he will never do.
He’s faceless, you won’t see any beauty nor ugliness.
He’s emotionless, you won’t see any happiness nor sadness.
It’s shady. All darkness.
But my madness and hatred for them empowers him.
I can’t trace any smirk. And it laughed, indignantly.
Drastically. It laughed for me.
His black heart and messed up soul are full of putrid memories.
I now know. It’s not my shadow either.
’cause he’s my hidden self.
‘Cause it’s the devil in me.
Maybe, it’s the right time to stop.
Maybe, it’s the right time to close my eyes.
I’ll now give my mind and my heart it’s rest.
It’s my time of escaping from reality.
My soul will run away and this worst feeling will be gone.
Suddenly and temporarily.
(Last free-verse poetry of the month)
I always belive I’m strong.
I always tell myself when I’m alone that I’ll never see tears in my eyes.
But the sad truth is that, all I’ve spoken was pretty lies.
Pretty lies that let me dwell in wrong self-impression.
The truth is I’m fragile, I’m weak, and not created with steel.
But I realized that I sometimes love the weak part of me.
The part that let me show them that I’m not always staying tough,
The part that let me cry when I can’t anymore take it,
And allow them to see my red sense of sight.
Allow them to see that I’m also in pain,
That I’m also tired enough and I need to tell ’em what I need to tell them.
And in that honest truth…
I found out that it’s good to show your true weak self.