This has been my deepest cut,
Right across my face,
Splitting my personalities,
Defining me as lost beneath my many layers.
I am swallowed by the black hole,
Within my eye,
Leading to different perceptions of me,
Never ending at one.
I saw myself in a dream,
Once happy,
Once immersed in serendipity,
Only distracted by the song of birds.
To only wish that in which was seen in dream
Was seen in front of open eyes
and not by the black of the world.
I am capable of thought,
Only to be broken down by reoccurring memories,
And coddled only, by my own embracing arms.
How many times must I wipe away my tears,
Disinfect my wounds,
Cover my scars,
And protect my heart.
I am not dead,
And completely capable of love,
But it is rarely reciprocated,
So does this mean I am dead to the world?
Am I a ghost within a worldly shell,
To rot by time,
Wither like leaves,
and die like dogs.
These are my happy thoughts
So what is sadness,
Or am I confused on what it is,
and how it should be?