I don’t want to die.
But saying I want to live would be a lie.
Stuck between those two statements,
Can’t even bring myself to commitment.
I’m just an empty body without a soul:
I let myself get carried away into this hole,
This hole where even the light can’t breaks through,
Realizing too late the zombie it turned you into.
I can’t brace the courage to get up from bed,
Gave up on counting how many times I bled.
This same kind of blood no one notices,
The exact one that doesn’t let you keep your promises.
Starting to think all of this must have a reason.
My whole life, I’ve been bottling up my emotions,
I drank them like a glass of red wine,
Its bewitching color letting its bitterness behind...
But its side effects which were until now in disguise,
Will appear, no matter how much I tried to tell myself lies...
They drained all the amount of inner life I had left,
The speed with which they did it would leave you impressed.
You can’t drink indefinitely though.
In any case not without becoming a shadow.
The shadow of yourself, of all you had back then,
Leaving you wondering if you would do it again.