existence.

"Sad stuff makes beautiful poetry, but it's not so pretty to live with." [-Merecat]
*For the Dear Diary Competition*
(I recommend anything beyond 'Tumbling Ash' for the rest is a mess of nonsense words that hold no character, no story and absently fill the page)

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80. Picture Book

 

Life isn't a picture book.

 

Sometimes the candy-coated sky isn't lemon or tangerine

and the sun isn't a brilliant ball bobbing in fabric

it's just a faded outline amongst a flat grey.

 

Sometimes the moon hides in the darkness and

the shadows present themselves as twisted, dark creatures from my

nightmares.

 

Sometimes the people aren't drawn with a smile and their lips

are pursed with aggression because happiness seems

such a distant feeling,

like it's been too long since it's consumed my heart.

 

Sometimes our demons,

our disorders,

melt away our hearts into a puddle of echoing black and

we are swallowed by the abyss of our worst thoughts.

 

Can someone paint headphones on each person and let

them drown in sorrowful notes?

 

Because all the world seems to be is a gigantic mess

of music and depression.

 

I hate it all.

 

-25th October 2015

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