I wonder if I could just sway my thoughts into riddles,
where the meaningless words sweep its way
into a medium that would cease
Sometimes they suck the life out of you
to just be.
Where do I begin to unfold the reasons
for the existence of these melancholic thoughts
that translate themselves into becoming
these hidden and ineffable feelings.
If I could just see you and bring you into my hands
so you could be tangible,
so I can break you,
and untangle the chaos that you’ve printed
in my head.
Because you’ve consumed me
too many times
so much so I’ve started losing the grip…
to my own soul.
I can’t even draw you
I can’t even describe you,
I can’t even talk to you,
you… that keeps bearing me down.
For if I am able to…
at least, we don’t even have to fight anymore.
and at least, there’s an end to it.