PRESTON:
I'm tired of crying so I sit down and write....It's 2am in the morning and the world just seems right...This dark corner in my room is warm, hotter than the cold outside...
Today I'm feeding my thoughts with memories...And the wrong choices I made...I don't really regret being a poet or having a cold heart either....
Most of you cry about heart breaks and stories of poet... Your story gave me a heart ache.... But do you really know how it feels to love and fail.... To choose and not be chosen....I really want to curse someone today....
The crickety sounds of the night insects... Form a deep combination with my sad heart beat to make a song.... I listen carefully cleanly to the magical sensation.... The clouds at night are so touchy....
Silence my other friend visits when it is time... They all told me to love... But no one told me what to love.... I love my self with the ego of a bully and a self-esteem of a wrestler.... Feel like a pipe wrench.... Strongly put to over turn tight nuts.... I write a song for my heart....
My head?? Is momentously detached from reasoning.... I got tired of seeing same people... Is like I'm a cartoon character in a boring drawing book...That's why they fear me maybe because the alphabets in my name... Betrayed me....
I swear I'll stop lying to myself one day... But it's still 2am and my heart like my stomach and head it is empty.... Trying to fill this hollow space.... Find the satisfaction that only comes like ecstasy.... Once every night....
©Heart_Surgeon2017
beblogpreston.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment