Death does not comes to me
Even when I
pray for it
I’m coward
My body freezed
and hands paralysed
In the
inside,
My life is
torturous and tormenting
On the
outside,
I believe
there exist a better place for me
I’m stuck
between life and death, my view blurry
My soul dead,
head full of death wishes
Is it called
living?
About- Standing on a cliff, i'm caught in a storm of conflicting emotions between the urge to escape and the faint hope of something better. I know what i'm facing but sometimes the voices are too loud in my head and so i am waiting for the closure to arrive at my door, until then i can only do one thing that is write. Writing gives me immense power to find a path through the storm and the hope that someday peace will find its way back to me.
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ReplyDeleteIt is depressing dude.
ReplyDelete