my mind might be cold.

When I sink into my thoughts
I realize I'm in a pretty dark place.
I imagine my imagination to be a fairly low lit place,
with strangly harmoniously haunting music
and everyone in it walks as if they were in a daze...
or enlightened... or on weed.
Could this be mine or borrowed?
When can my life reflect the worship my heart knows it wants to follow.

Two decades in and I'm making bigger mistakes.
I try to hold my breath and die but it isn't yet my fate.
As I hold my hand out to reach for more
I realize I wanted too much.
And everything I thought I aimed for
was never quite enough.
This filthy habit of inquenchable thirst,
has made me quite depressed.
I find myself filled with thoughts
that give me more distress.
The mirror shows me more and more
of someone I wish I weren't.
And less and less can I believe,
I'm finding myself a cure.

I'm tired of all this crap I do
to make excuses for myself.
And this stupid juvenile poem
makes me wanna look for help.
But i'll stop right here,
just to let you know I'm not always this pathetic.
I only rhyme at cheesy times
as I feel it is remedic.


some fabricated words there. hahaha
BYE