The ray of the sun’s light is not too bright to pass through this thick fabric curtain and the morning comes but it does not shine in the other side of the window. Until the sun has to set, the bed is still yet to be vacated. Awake through the night and through the dawn with no light, just a debilitated psyche to perceive the misty surroundings— searching for a dash of light and pulling all the threads of this thick fabric. Restless mind through the dark, not even a glint came through out of all the sunrises and mornings. Supposed hopeful journeys and new beginnings led to wasted life and daily mourning.
I wrote a bunch of poetry back in 2017, it was all over the place. So, I finally retrieved it from my old broken laptop and some were from my old journal pages that I may have forgotten about.
Mixed sensation building up from the inside, never letting it out and trying so hard to hide the sign of weakness coming from within. Stone face, ungrateful tone that I don’t mean.
I’m catching up to my core who’s miles ahead but everyone perceives that I’m hostile instead. Terrified to cause a scene but wanting to be seen. Afraid to be too loud but wanting someone to listen.
I have rambled words and feelings inside of me. Instead, I let out an odd side of how it’s ought to be. It’s all in my head thinking how I made such a mess of myself that I became a machine, and emotionless.
The scars from the past are still covered up with plasters, and time didn’t do its job to heal the wound from the disasters that I had hoped would disappear but it’s a chip on my shoulders I can’t brush off, and its claws cling. Stitches are open and the pain lingers.
I was always the first one in line, for a prize I didn’t even need to try Now, I’m suddenly left behind. I’m back in the corner of a room trying to keep my head down and rushing to get out soon, watching the hands of the clock slowly turn to the time I can leave it feels like years, I feel so stuck. I often go back to these moments, the glory days of my care free life, the memories and what it all meant at the time, it was everything to me. Now, I’m sitting back in this chair thinking maybe this is all I’ll ever be.