My nights drag long and the heat swells up around me, my thoughts never ending, dislike washes over my body and I keep awake- afraid to close my eyes lest paradise chooses this night to slip away.
How long will it take before I suffocate under this sheet of depression? lying awake, afraid to close my eyes or think because thoughts, thoughts are little soldiers battling in my head and they take no enemies captive; dead or dead. They fight unfair, firing shots, attacking the innocent victim, me. Or am I?
There is a sickness in my heart, I can feel it eating away at the flesh and working its way into the core, decaying it, rotting it. I lay limp, afraid to move.
I remember a time when this was enjoyable. Not the act itself, but the hype leading to the act. Friends and I would sit and giggle, then we would put on an air of experience and maturity, scanning the room, wine goblets in our hands and diamonds sparkling on our skins. We were ripe.
How foolish. Little did we know that our fruits were rotting, but the tree grew outrageously, even till now. Now we talk about it like it's a burden, some of us still hide it with a brush of the hand, or a mischevious wink, pretending to be in control. We all know we're not. I am not.
How foolish. Little did we know that our fruits were rotting, but the tree grew outrageously, even till now. Now we talk about it like it's a burden, some of us still hide it with a brush of the hand, or a mischevious wink, pretending to be in control. We all know we're not. I am not.
And the act. I become an actress, so good, that I am my role. At the end, I'm still in this same body, with these same thoughts, ashamed of this same existence. I'm so ashamed. My shame goes beyond wanting to hide away (although there are those days), now it's a familiarity and it follows me everywhere, it's a tattoo I wear on my skin constantly. To live, is to hide shame.
Thoughts, go away...
To wheover is in control, because I'm not. Have mercy on me, I give up. Don't toss me up and down anymore. I truly am tired. Can you change me? change my thoughts, change the things I do to myself? change my existence? Can I be transformed into a beautiful, brown-eyed gazelle skipping in the green of the forest? or a tall and graceful pink flamingo dipping my beak in the clear spring?
Can I be beautiful? Can you make me beautiful? If my inside could be wiped clean, and my past completely erased, then my thoughts taken far away from me. Maybe I could start all over again.
Please, whoever created me, create me again.
So how long will it take before I reach paradise? What if paradise is unreachable? oh..what if there are no rainbows and green fields, blue skies and red soil? what if there are no yellow rays and no orange sun? Birds and beasts, but my body? How could I stand in the midst of beauty, without causing blemish? it's like I leave a stain on everything I touch.
To wheover is in control, because I'm not. Have mercy on me, I give up. Don't toss me up and down anymore. I truly am tired. Can you change me? change my thoughts, change the things I do to myself? change my existence? Can I be transformed into a beautiful, brown-eyed gazelle skipping in the green of the forest? or a tall and graceful pink flamingo dipping my beak in the clear spring?
Can I be beautiful? Can you make me beautiful? If my inside could be wiped clean, and my past completely erased, then my thoughts taken far away from me. Maybe I could start all over again.
Please, whoever created me, create me again.
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