Rose-tinted Glasses

These times that you knew so closely.

The nights where numbness of experience took over.

Those times were the most honest you've known.

But in this plight to progress towards an angle of you,

You've lost touch of your truth.


You mustn't scream or cry or tear

At your hair in angst and helplessness.

You are better now, well again.

Reverted to a time you never knew.

Why must you delude yourself under the magnifying glass

And gnarl your roots 

To this aspect of betterment that you hold so ideal.

Clipping at your tree blindly

Will eventuate its nakedness.

The frame of it once was,

And devoid of all it could be. 


Ask yourself one question.

Would you rather die while living;

Or live whilst dying?

One hopes for a liberty,

Whilst the other must make do.


I scream words so that people will hear me,

And say those things thought wanted.

But I do not believe all that I posit


Revert back.

I accept that the valley of the shadow of death

Shall see me scrawling in a corner.

But if that means passengers after me

Will go silent at the thoughts I provoke,

Then I will throw my life to shambles.

Those who will not see through these eyes,

Will not see the tragedy behind them

And will thus not fear for the words that seep through.

A husk of nothing.

With a fear of everything

And a sullen trudge towards something.

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One of the best big boy 

One of the best big boy