Colours That Bleed

Colours That Bleed
sun, oct. 18/15

heavy words
a burden of tones
a memory
no clarity
I don't know who I am
who I'm supposed to be
how I'm supposed to be.

I feel like time
is contagious,
our morals change.
our hair changes
like the colours of the seasons.

is there a reason
for me to stay
until I'm winter white
with brittle bones?

how do I stop
this feeling?

not regret,
not nothing.
or is it
nothing?
maybe that's all my
words will ever mean.
nothing?

who am I to you?
just another boy
with too many issues?
a burden since birth?

how do I know
when to take a step back?
am I setting myself up
for pain?
failure,
heartbreak,
suicide?
sure.

am I going to die
alone?
if I grow old,
will I be alone?

40,
a number,
an age,
one I don't think
I'll experience.
at the max.

I get so excited,
feeling it surge though
my body,
but still.
false hope.

I wasn't anything to
anyone but my household.

no one cares about the
depressed,
until they become the
deceased.

Reviews

[Udeme]

This is Epic.

The use of words here is great! Keep it up!