I Am But Drained, Even Without Doing Much, Downright Exhausted, Struggling To Find Reasons, Motivation

"I don't even feel anything anymore, I'm just immersed in the stillness of my own thoughts."

— Echoes of the Infinite, Restless Prayer

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I think I finally understand The rose's thorns I too want to be loved Without being touched

So I am no romantic flower I embody the stem I want to be ideal And practically unattainable

And once again, I endured the pain, I never caused.

~ark

Done being the PUNCHING BAG.

My Happy Ending

I know very well, That the end is near. But still, I believe that it's not the end of the world. I just keep sitting, fearing it, thinking about it, But I don't know why, I don't act for change, I don't change for the same.

I know that if I try, I may make it. But the fear of what if, Makes me stationary. Even after its monumental importance for me, I don't act, I don't change.

They say, everything has a happy ending, But what if I don't want it to end? Because if it doesn't, I wouldn't have to act, I wouldn't have to change. It appears so easy being stationary.

But it's not the same, As for the poison of fear, Is consuming me gradually. And that ending is the only way, I could get rid of it.

I don't know if it'll be a happy ending or not, But it'll end for sure, Even if I don't wanna act, Even if I don't wanna change, I have to act, I have to change. For my happy ending.

~ark

The Crack

The crack on the wall, I saw that day, Said something much deeper that words can’t convey. The lightning that struck upon it, Painted a ray. Divided by the misunderstandings, They drifted further away. The birth of hatred, Murder of hope, The wall, once considered sacred, Was now held by a weak rope. One wanting to stand alone, The other trying to find a way to escape, They were united by the ink of trace. Needing each other to outgrow the phase, The canvas of peace reflected the colours of mistakes. They stood together at the same place, Bleeding by the broken pieces of the trust’s vase.

~ark

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~ark

The Dictum

I chose to stay silent,

I chose to avoid violence.

I chose to be alone,

I chose to remain unknown.

I chose to accept them,

The people who hid behind the mask of a friend.

I let myself suffer,

Welcoming the troubles

I cried considering my unfaithful life,

A dictum.

But in all of this,

How was I the victim?

~ark

What a dilemma..

~ark

My own work disgusts me, at times. I find it flat, I find the words that had depth now are as shallow as a children's pool. I look to the right, and then to the left: so many other of us here and there, their poems with hard-to-read fonts, and crazy weird background colors. Big ones, 10k+ ones, think they are fools. But I see the magic, I see the struggle, the courage, the craziness, the sadness, the reflection in the mirror—blurred. The writing is good, but my eyes are dull—addicted to the aesthetic, to the trend, to the dopamine cycle, to the movement—how do I break this cycle? I'm being swallowed by it! I want to me the same, and to fight the norm. I want to inform, to conform, to deform, and then to destroy everything. I want to be real, to open a way, to see and be seen, and to become, and delight in the fact that I am another human being.

The Real World

In the world of lies, She lied too. In order to survive, She smiled too. All the relations formed, On the foundation of the feelings suppressed, Blinded by the fake world, She lost her conscious and herself. The artificial skin worn once, Was now a part of what she called her own. Afraid to be alone, Being a part of darkness, She couldn’t bear the light which made her true self being shown. The world she was born in, Ripped her bare, calling it an act of kindness. Their plan about to begin, They smiled at her while the mask hid their evil grin. She laid bleeding alone, Blending in the darkness of her hidden sins.

~ark