When I write I don’t always control over the finished product. The moment my pen hits paper I relinquish control of my thoughts, and allow for my feelings to slowly take shape on the page. While being able freely express myself through writing has often been a blessing, at times I am troubled by the things that reside in my head. More than a few times I’ve found myself questioning why I can write with such dark undertones. Loneliness, death, and bitterness ooze from every word, and the piece below is no different. I was in a dark place these last few weeks, and everything I wrote made me feel like I was sliding back into my old mental state. I stopped posting, worried that others would notice the similar trends I was falling back into. I didn’t want anyone knowing how bad I was getting again, but as usual, it didn’t take long for me to realize that I wasn’t doing myself any favors by keeping everything to myself. So here it is. Here is the piece that made me bottle everything up again. I hope it doesn’t worry people.
I’ve given up raging against the dying of the light,
Because death’s my favorite companion when I close my eyes at night.
Everyone else seems to be hiding out of sight,
Waiting until they judge the time to be right.
I suppose I should say that I’m not really alone,
It’s just that everyone’s eyes seem cold as stone.
Upon deaf ears, falls my dying moans.
No Redemption for this sinner, no time to atone.
I guess You noticed that I’m writing again,
About life, death, and all the places that I’ve been.
Mapping the hell in my head with nothing but a pen,
And the desire to understand if it’s full of monsters or just men.
Sometimes I wonder if people break down these words,
If in their heads they sound equally absurd.
I’m constantly wondering on which side of the line I’ll fall,
Will I find a savior, or give up and end it all.
Maybe I should just put on this mask and end it with a smile,
Or maybe someone will smile back and I’ll stay for a while.
Me & a mask 