I drift, filled up with a heavy cloud of gloom. I have no aim as nothing seems important, nothing has reason.
these thoughts are the beginning of danger.
Where sighs bring out tears.and rest is just a dream because sleep is allusive and I am a liar.I am a fraud.
Liars must keep on lying to stop everything from falling down.crashing to the ground.
What is it to be "mysterious" ? I am the most brutally honest dishonest person I am aware of.
Hiding everything behind big truths.all the little cracks veiled.
I tell so much that no one questions what I keep to myself. Nothing I speak of is me any more.
I am filled up with tales that are free, safe to tell.
I am falling down. looking for a way out.
inside me, everything crumbles,
and I can not explain why I behave so brittlely.so sharp and unapproachable.so wordless.
I must patch myself up before I get asked "what's wrong?" because I am at the end of my untruths.
I may just slip.
and break it all.
I am empty of desire.
I barely wear black any more where it used to be like a uniform.
though I feel I am more filled up with a substantial darkness then ever.
it's just another intricate tale.
I am empty of creation.all I can think of is running.
I am afraid my broken heart doesn't in fact even know what love is
it certainly doesn't trust in it.
without trust, not even a drop.life feels oh so precarious.so fragile.
this.this is the beginning of danger.