Red in a sea of black and whiteMy vision is a translucent blur and my head is constantly squeezing tighter, looser, tighter, loser. I feel like a rag drifting in the wind, the only thing that changes me are external factors. I’m not me. I’m not who I am and I’m not a being. I don’t have a sense of urgency, I don’t have a sense of enjoyment, practicality, realisation, enthusiasm or even feelings anymore.
I feel numb. I cut myself and the pain is just colour in a world of distrust and suffering without the pain or emotions. Blood is liquid soul. Red in a sea of black and white.
I feel like I’m marching along with a crowd, without any sense of individuality or uniqueness. Even the picturesque imagery of my mind feels stagnant and irrelevant. I could cry but I can’t feel sad, I would laugh but I never feel joy. I would smile but I don’t have effort. I wouldn’t bother being if I even bothered at all.
I am a prisoner in my own mind and I can’t escape it. Voices k
We are SuicidalIn this world I feel nothing but pain,
In my eyes I see tears and blue,-
In this world I am only the same,
As the worst is the worst of me and you.-
I cry to sleep I cry to death,
I cry until the pains in my head,
Until my heart has stopped,
And until my feelings are shot.
We are the burdens that are in this world,
We are the children that watched it unfurl,
We are the lives that never mattered,
We are the ones whoms ashes aren’t scattered,
Our deaths are only intentional, and our pain is merely conventional, while your excuses about our potential are what remind us of how we’re all two dimensional but to you we’re only attentional. Tensional.
We are the pinnacle of survival in a world that’s cynical and as we breathe in the clinical air and we stare at our own empty binnacle. Unethical. You think that we’re finical because we’re not dominical. In a world that’s difficult and in words of lyrical we’re in a hurt of invisible because of the