Writing and Dreaming and Reading...

These days I am made of sleep and despair,

All I've been saying is "I want to go somewhere."

And wondering if escape is ever going to be enough,

I search for answers of questions I never voiced out.

These days my hands have been empty and still,

Because my mind refuses to do what it needs,

It goes in loops of playlists, on constant rewind,

Riding an emotional roller coaster set on crying.

These days I don't really talk,

Because everytime I open my mouth I will sing, 

And it irritates me that the only song I hear,

Is the sadness permeating from the rain.

These days I've not been eating,

At least not the way I did before,

I used to ravenous for every experience,

But now I just wait for something, anything.