In my notes where thoughts are jot
Where "i"s are dotted and "t"s are crossed
Where I bring myself to court and act as my own judge
And examine my happiness through my own court
Acting as both the prosecutor and defendant is exhausting
Especially when I know the lies but stick to pretending
Im the midst of guilt, with innocence disappearing
Me, my mind and my mental prison
I could show evidence of what I am
I could even show you videos, I have them intact
And yet I could marvel at my own actions and flaws
Till the point I loose sleep try to get rid of them all
When I wrote Dark Room it was the light of my poems
Over 150 and yet I feel there is much more that still needs to open
Like an onion, layered and trying my best to unfold
But causing tears to those I hold so close
But not HER.
My flaws are her joy and happiness
She sees me open up and endures the pain and tears
Making her cry makes me feel like a bad person
My life's a story, but what's the lesson?
It's 2am and even while sleepy, my pen vibrates
Trying to force unhappiness on a smiling face
Mountain of problems staring in my face
Removing them, stone per stone, till all of it eventually fades
About the Creator
Harydo Neon
I drain my thoughts through my pen. That's the only way I breathe.
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