[353] We’re Not Alone

What secret am i uncovering
by fixating on my thoughts
as if the clouds would burst
or the sea would part
only to reveal a spectacle
that will make sense of the
profound anxiety i drown in

Giving characters to my emotions
I see sadness as a wilted sunflower
obeying only to rebel against its nature
but still managing to be
correct one time of the day
where it looks imperfectly perfect
like sadness does in melancholy

I see anger as the ignored life of a star
who dies a lonely supernova death
in such a gorgeous manner
only for it to be seen by people
who are looking at the past
so they can make sense of their present

The fever of saying and understanding
takes over the tranquillity to know nothing
My characters rebel against me
to stop me from writing to explain
but implore me to write to only feel
Emotions aren’t neatly fitted clothes they say
They are bigger than the illusion of a dream
and smaller than the fleeting moment of ecstasy
Things are simpler than the complexity I seek
and the purpose of an ending always a new beginning

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