All these things I can think,
going through my memory.
All these things I can think,
driving me to insanity.
All these moments I can feel,
needling through my skin.
All this hate I expel,
knowing you can tell.
I'm not living through my life.
I'm just crying over motives.
I'm not feeling my own mind.
Just a very emotive leaf
flying towards...
nothing.
Really nothing,
not even an entire verse.
Not even a rhyme.
Suffocated, nauseated, demotivated.
Depressive, repressive, unimpressed.
Loveless, motionless, lifeless.
Why don't you just suck it up?
Wake it up, shake it up,
break your own vices,
break you own world.
Why don't you just stop crying?
Why does everything you do
makes you wanna puke?
Why does every feeling needs to be an action?
Why does every action cause so intense feelings?
Why your own mind doesn't stop thinking about it?
Stressing about it, working about it.
Writing about it.
In disconnected ways.
Why your world inside makes you not enjoy the one outside?
Tuesday, July 28, 2020
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