My Home Is Bleeding
More of a non-existing music to all those around me, but to me, the tones are playing with my nerves, moving like an angry anchor that my home is bleeding.
My soul is being tortured by those memories, that for a while, I wish they stop taunting me about my mere capability of handling them.
My soul is my home, so when I say I'm fine, I'm aching.
When I'm all alone, I'm dealing with my demons, never thought their claws were sharp enough to carve scars of such odd patterns on my skin.
Never thought my demons would be using my mind as if they're playing with a marionette; convincing me to use my hands like a knife to carve a different memory at each corner of my heart. Beastly it is.
Every time I'm smiling at you so carelessly, I still care even if my talk is quite blank. My eyes are not.
And by "You," I mean those people whom I've cared for and loved thoroughly yet chose to disenchant me as a thank you.
.Sunrise is more of a sunset
.Good morning is more of a good night
.Light is being dressed in a nightgown
It's all mad and it's like I'm ruling a kingdom on a fake throne.
My home is bleeding but I still call it home.
When I try to sleep, insomnia seems to knock on my door.
Insomnia is like that very dear shadow of yours. Never wants to leave you and never will.
It haunts you deep down as if there's some kind of a sacred place it must be at midnight. Then it's only you.
Now you're in a gothic dance with your thoughts. And you cannot handle it. Your mind goes mad and you're sweating bullets.
Every night I wake up lightening candles not lights.
Candles seem like the only source of light that my eyes can bear.
That very day, I woke up to that light with the urge of opening my drawer. Having picked up my knitting kit and on a thin piece of white cloth, I started knitting a red heart, one that has no holes in.
No holes of regret, no holes of anger, and no holes of fear.
Then I realized that was never the person I wanted to become.
Even if my home’s bleeding, my self-love will always be the roof shielding me from the bloody heavy rains. My yet unleashed strength will eventually wake up.
I’m trying every day to wake up to birds chirping instead of waking up to my own thoughts slaughtering the peace I have.