✴

Most times I loved the darkness,
Other times I craved the pain;
Loved the feeling of bullets piercing through me,
Standing in the cold killing rain.

Lie over red hot coals. Yes it's true,
I'd rather feel the erasing burn than acknowledge I fall blue,
Deeper into despondency everyday.

Melancholy, my misery's best friend calls
Daily, repeatedly, I'm at fault, always I'm in the wrong,
So I have to pay with my joy, my smile, my song.

Lock myself in no one's place,
Where my silent screams can never escape
And then I. . .

What I do I cannot say
Because if I do, I'll need someone's help to stay sane
And I won't be alone by myself ever again.

But I can't be myself without the pain.

So I'll listen to the calls, stand in the rain
And wait for someone who feels the same,
Someone to share the suffocating pain
Someone who'll hug me and make me smile again,
Stand with me even though it brings no gain.

And although there are bullets raining down and scalding rain,

Make me feel the love again.

✴

Looking back at it, these were hopeful thoughts.
I still remember why I wrote it.
Emotional me was quite stupid.
✴