Today,
nothing terrible happened.
Suspicious.
I waited for the plot twist,
but the sun just sat there,
warm and stupid,
like it loved me.
How does one be happy?
Does it look like
not being snappy?
What is being glad
supposed to look like?
A little less mad?
A little less sad?
What does it look like
to be joyful?
Nothing rhymes with joyful.
That’s not helpful.
Maybe happiness
doesn’t need
to look like anything.
Maybe it doesn’t need
confetti,
a punchline,
or proof.
Maybe it just sits there,
warm and stupid,
until you stop
asking questions.
I didn’t.
It stayed anyway.
What do you do
when you’re riddled with riddles,
swallowed whole
right down the middle?
Music blares,
but it’s not me.
’Twas a toot or two
from a fiddle.
What do you do
when your riddles get riddled?
When you’re all alone
and you fiddle your diddle.
Nothing comes out
but a little
piddle.
Compulsively arranged
and out of control,
thought after thought
has swallowed me whole.
Riddled with feelings,
I pick at my mind,
looking for answers
that no one can find.
Can you connect the dots?
I’m trying to justify
whatever still rots.
Riddled with riddles,
discarded
like an afterthought.
Something’s not right here.
Something became
a knot.
There's an ability
Might be rare but allegeds stability
The curse of thinking
Usually pretty usefull
Comes in handy
And keeps the situation cool
The dark side do exist
As it forces to over-analyze
Compels one to always think
And makes many situations, realize
Forces one to overthink
Perhaps the biggest drawback
As well as some boon to bear
If the analysis delays the setback
Changes your view
By which you see others
If they fail to observe
You'll disgust them forever
Prevents cringe habits
And avoid those having them
Many might climb on you
Like you're some kind of stem
It gives you some morals
And apathize sympathy
Those who seek it exist
And when you don't, they envy
The curse of thinking
It is as it is
Can't change its nature
And have to bear as it is
Escape
Do you ever just need an escape?
An escape from reality?
Your past?
Your present?
The thoughts inside your head?
The overthinking of every little thing?
Every mistake?
Every miss spoken word ?
Everything unsaid?
Every regret?
Every small thing you could’ve done better?
No matter how big or small
Each moment replays in your head,
Wondering
what could I have said different?
What could I have done different?
What could I have done better?
But you gotta escape from those thoughts
Find a way to block them out
Do anything but face them.
But it all ends the same
You just keep thinking and thinking,
Until it eats you alive ,
Then you’ll realize
You gotta face it
And eventually,
You will
He is my poetry in one single line,
He is the sun who glows up every morning of mine,
He is my moon that brightens every night of mine,
He is my bliss of solitude that makes silence feel alive,
He is my colour when I draw any sketch of mine,
He is the words of the love letters which I am yet to write,
He is the wish in every prayer of mine,
He is the endless novel in this life of mine,
I wonder if he might ever know that he is my poetry in every,
In every single line...
If I were to tell him, will he be mine?
Or I'll lose him for the rest of my life,
Or I'll lose him for the rest of my life…
Will we be friends even if he rejects this love of mine?
Or I'll lose his friendship for the rest of my life,
Will I be able to make his family mine-
Or I'll lose him for the sake of mine,
Will I be able to make his siblings mine-
Or I'll lose him for the sake of mine,
Or this story will end just like this poem of mine...
I wonder if he might ever know that he is my poetry in every,
In every single line...
Your ghost
lives under my bed,
comes out
only at midnight,
wandering around
messing with my head
and vanishing like phew
moment the sun steps in.
In the noon hours I forget
what's that all about.
But often reminisce
once the sun says goodbye.
Like any other night
I will face you again,
looming over
and me looking back
like nothing unusual .
I am just curious.
Are you not willing to leave?
or
am I not ready to let go?
my friends know i don’t mean when i wave it off and say that i’m just tired
it’s not like i got any sleep, but that’s not the reason i’ve been bitter
they always knew me to be sweeter
it’s been almost four weeks since you last called,
at 9:47, i even memorized the time
do you remember it the same way that i do?
does your mind keep replaying it for you too?
it stings because i know that i could never picture anything past you and i
not like i even bothered trying,
i didn’t, that’s why i’m barely getting past this
do you remember me like i do you?
do you cry before going to bed too?
feels like i’m talking to a stranger, but i memorized your flavor
i know you cry with movies and babysit for your neighbor
do you tell her that you love her voice?
does she believe you like i did three weeks ago?
my friends know that you’re the reason why i’m tired, you keep me up all night,
you consume me without even trying
how is it possible that you could just survive me?
instead of sleeping i toss and turn at night and my friends have started thinking it’s your fault
yeah, they know that i’ve been bitter
they always thought that i was sweeter
“Everything I Never Said”
They called me quiet,
as if silence were a gift
as if it meant I had nothing to say.
But my silence
was never empty.
It was crowded
with unsent messages,
unfinished thoughts,
and feelings
that grew too loud
for a voice I never used.
I learned to hold words
at the edge of my tongue,
to swallow them whole
before they could exist.
Because the world
only listens to noise
and I was never loud enough
to be heard.
So I became smaller,
quieter,
easier to ignore
while inside,
I carried entire storms
that never found the sky.
No one saw
how my smiles trembled,
how my laughter arrived
a moment too late
like even my happiness
needed permission
to be real.
And maybe
I was afraid
afraid that if I spoke,
I would spill too much,
feel too much,
become too much.
So I stayed silent.
Not because I had nothing to say,
but because
I had everything.
I am drowning.
not because I cannot swim,
not because the raft is out of sight,
but because I keep reaching for you.
And no matter how far I sink,
you seem to drift further
just beyond the reach of everything I have left to give.
I find myself questioning
whether you were ever really there at all
or if I am slowly becoming paranoid, delusional,
lost in something I can no longer name.
Because every time I think I’ve found you,
every time I feel close enough to breathe again,
you vanish
like something that was never meant
to be held.
Sometimes I look up,
toward the surface,
and I think about letting go.
But then I hear you
faint, distant,
calling out to me.
And suddenly,
I am drowning all over again.
It is exhausting
this cycle of reaching,
of losing,
of hoping.
And maybe…
it is easier to drown
than to keep swimming toward something
that keeps slipping away.
Or maybe
somewhere between the depths and the surface
I have lost myself entirely.
You breathe in the air, dear,
since no scars could make you sad.
I was more than I thought,
but right now I am stuck here.
I am not even feeling the ground beneath my feet,
neither can I feel the pen
nor can I see any ink.
It’s all plain,
and I am scribbling,
trying to form words.
O dear me,
you are being drowned
by your sunken thoughts.
But you are able to touch,
feel, and smile, dear.
And you are too young to realize
that no one stays here.
O God,
I wish I could have been less intelligent,
as I can see fools living happily everywhere.
Coffee. Tea.
Or whatever it may be.
Stay awake, wait for it.
Go to sleep when the sunshine's lit.
Your mind's suffocated,
let it breathe.
Night time mornings,
the losts' time for mourning.
Close your eyes
Clear your mind
Another night is yet to come.
---
August 2020
What a curse it is that I think,
Let my thoughts drown me,
Till it wraps around my throat,
Till darkness is all I can see.
I try to stay occupied,
Not to be lone.
The thought of being alone with myself scares me.
The more you think, the worse it gets.
The more you know, the more you ache.
Or maybe my soul is just too pessimistic
Maybe my darkness is fake?
I drove myself to the darkness..
-mika
please, be very cool
so one should not overthink
be careful as well
Tell yourself that every normal-looking person hides a dirtier and bigger secret than you.
You think that when you're surrounded by people who never had to beg for an embrace.
And when you didn't receive the love
You shouldn’t have asked for, you cried and starved yourself
Wondering if you were intentional.
Where are you going?
I ask myself
In fear of knowing
What direction am I rowing
Is this where I want to be
or am I growing
I don't know who I can Ask
Which is annoying
Are these satans thoughts?
Is there something that they're imposing?
Or is this the cost of my sins
The destruction my hands have been sowing
I don't know the answer to any of this
I just use god as a way of coping
My thoughts have been everywhere
It has become very controlling
I can not do anything about it
They've just been roaming
But this is it
my way of thoughts; Disposing
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