Ten years maybe two.
I did the decor.
I was miserable here.
I wonder why.
This was the most beautiful room I ever had.
My thoughts bounced off the walls a lot. Mainly resounding that I was “useless” to my hearing.
Things you’ll never know.
I’ve always hated myself.
Tried to change it all and love myself.
Waste of time.
Apathy suits me well.
I don’t care anymore.
About God, family, love, life.
I’ve taken a hard look at me.
And the reflection isn’t flattering.
When at first I learned to talk.
I used all my words to write.
To him and her and you and me.
One more tear could drop in spite of my apathetic state.
But I’m dead inside.
I’ve lost everything I know that makes life…life.
Except misery though.
Yeah, sorrow too.
I’ve hoped and hoped, till hope jumped on thin ice.
Drowned, waved a white flag and just died.
Black’s my favorite colour. It’s apathetic.
Rock’s my favorite genre of music. It’s sympathetic.
Snow patrol, Coldplay, Blue October are my favorite bands. They are empathetic.
Poetry: only surviving talent. Me: archenemy. Death: only wish. It’s pathetic.
What will my legacy be? A Poet.
I wouldn’t write this. I’d say it in a poem.
One that reads like this:
Love is life alive
I have come to hate them both alike.
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