This is an old poem, it's not great, but I just wanted to post it.... I promise I am not sad though. I am happy as can be. Trust me.
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Monsters run through mushy pink and grey medows.
Feasting on the innocent,
who ran to hide in the shadow.
Hoping they might live the day,
Just to say, "I love you"
Such a familiar morning.
Torturing the happy thoughts inside my head.
Instead of letting myself be who I want to be,
All I do is hate and berate.
I can hear the screams of pain,
But all I feel is disdain for the good things I do.
I wonder if they were ever even good.
The things that make me happy,
Sadly only make me feel worse...
Self-awareness is not but a curse.
Pleasure gives me pain.
I should be doing more with my name.
I'm alive with dead eyes.
Though certain things I can still see, yet not comprehend.
This world is so beautiful it makes me sick.
My heart cries, but my eyes stay dry.
I want then to be now.
I want there to be what currently is a dream.
To be honest, I don't even know what I mean.
Sometimes helpful things don't help.
Sometimes thoughtful acts are done without thought.
