Words cannot describe how this is happening in my head.
How the silence of the voice doesn't tell how crowded the mind is.
If the mind can even be called a single entity,
as it just fights within itself breaking each part, each certainty;
Each try giving up later,
each moment I have to pick the broken glasses of my head,
and remount myself again.
Like connected Legos that don't create any form.
Here I go again, here goes the call to move.
Even though the wind is just as confused;
even though the thoughts can't be even sure of themselves.
"Am I invented", "Am I a delusion"?
So much self-hatred is mixed up with sugar.
"I will get better if I die a little bit more on the inside"
"I will get worse if I try because giving up is inevitable"
Good and bad,
or at least the conception of what they mean,
get just mixed up with dreamy realities
that never happened, and never will.
Or will they?
They won't. They will. They won't.
A lemon spritzed with the brain in between.
Everyday he dies a bit more from within.
And I feel lost,
my rationale cannot do the math:
How can I improve such debacle?
When I can't trust him, even with him being myself.
I can't trust me, even with me being himself.
This green piece doesn't fit with the orange one.
We bought the wrong set at birth.
And I get hurt.
Sometimes think I will never be worth.
So the guess is that things will just move.
I will just move, he will move too.
But what is the point of moving guideless?
Where is the joy when you can't agree with yourself?
I just honestly wish...
I was someone else.
