I’m broken, and I’m tired.
Have they always come hand in hand?
I can’t muster the strength to smile
When everything is broken inside.
I think I’m purging, purging and purging.
So don’t make me pretend with you,
Just to make you feel something inside.
I can’t even begin to count,
How many sleepless nights
Where I’ve hoped tomorrow wouldn’t come.
As I lay, breaking, breaking
To my own reflection.
Just to wake again the next day,
And feel the sun against my skin.
There is this overwhelming feeling of sadness
That wells up in my chest
And claws frantically at the throat.
This shadowing feeling of hollowness,
This overwhelming feeling of lonesomely calling,
Between wanting to say the words that cannot be said,
And the words that shouldn’t be said,
Then the words that I wanted to say,
Actually, in the end
Nothing is said.
There will come days where waking becomes difficult.
Sleep comes only after the lonely sun has risen,
Behind the midst of clouds.
There will come days where breathing is painful.
Alone, alone, listening to the sound of emptiness,
The breaking sound of your heart.
And there will also come days where living becomes long.
Seconds into minutes, hours into days,
Time that continues moving,
As our memories fade.
There is a monster inside of me,
It lives and it breathes
Sometimes like a lover,
Sometimes like a friend,
It gets lonely and jealous all the same.