I don't wanted to be born
I like to be gone
A wind that never existed
Wanted to create oceans of flowers
But left with nothing more than blood
Blood that's still in my body
A time it will run out to be free
I hope not to long to wait
Waiting for the right time
The difference between shame and disaster
A time that it less matter
A moment to sneak out of life
With less people that notice
My blood doesn't want to flow
Because flowing doesn't matter anymore
No meaning to breath
Forever blindness in my eyes
No touch that I can feel
Only nothingness
Living without a heart
But still cares about the world
About the people on it
But not enough to stay
It's a black hole that's inside me
Eating me alive
Piece by piece
Growing with small steps
Until it reaches it's finish point
The right time
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Author:
Black hole (
Offline) - Published: February 14th, 2022 20:16
- Comment from author about the poem: The reason why this account is called black hole. One of my secrets I guess but in a certain way I don't want to hide it. Because everyone has their issues, it's a part of life. Not a cry of something like that but more like an example that everyone is a person. It's possible that it might get deleted later, not sure about that😄 A decision later to make.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 22
Offline)
Comments1
Hmm, how interesting your perception of blackhole is nothingness.
I hope you are feeling better these days. After all we know things can come out of black holes do at least there is that.
True, about the fact that things sometimes comes outside of it. Everything seems big but yet so small
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