with no one around to see
I ask myself, is it me?
or is this pain would be always what i feel?
life lies again as it meant to be
with nothing inside to feel
so I erase myself, this is not what I have to be
and these hurting moments are what i have to keep
life is beautiful
and to thee, for I used to sing
with no voice in the air to hear
so I ask you, were you there?
or that void, was just there for me to fill?
and to death, for I used to beg
with my broken hands to reach
so I bury myself, this is not me
and this withering body is what I have to kill
so I stay and wither
for there are no such words as...
life is beautiful...
© Thymournia, 2012