MrSkittlesXD

See... I'm a masochist, but not by my choice. I've accepted my lonesome as joy won't rejoice. Abandoned by happiness, I try to live somber. The days get shorter and the nights grow longer. Poetry protects this portrait of pleasure. Targets the troubles that tarnish my treasure. Accompanied by loneliness, silence screams loud. The chilliness of embers restrict the once allowed. Experience of woe withers vouchsafed victories. Monuments of misery. Yet masked by my mystery.

The concept of love was alien for my brain. Felt nothing in my heart, except for my pain. Yet a miracle occurred. A warmth arrives. What was once grey, are now blue skies. Funnily enough, I enjoy how I feel. An emotion that I, once, used to conceal. Is this what ecstasy feels at its finest? A glow is observed; a glow in my iris. She is but a dream that tends to intervene. When scenes of life seems to be obscene.

I finally understood my eagerness to help. Rescuing everyone, but can't rescue my self. Gave directions to heaven, while on a path to hell. A locksmith who is trapped in his own mind's cell. At times I'm vexatious, not because I want attention. I know the right path, but I walk the wrong direction. The mute who writes symphonies for others. The blind who guides his enemies and brothers. I apologize if I come off as nosy most the time. I know how to live your life, while I fail to live mine.

I saw it with my eyes; the effects of a departure. Burden on my chest- days kept getting harder. Suicidal tendencies arose from the ashes. Yet I formed no courage to tell it to the masses. The would ridicule my thoughts. I write them in my diary- Away from human-error. No priest could even choir me. No sweet scent presented ever tormented like this. Friends colored in romance: an abandonment from bliss. Vexatious over vitriolic vanity of wicked love. It's truly lonely at the top, I seldom seem to sit above. The deafening sound of silence echoes through out. The mute screams in agony; presented with some doubt. Dreamt of a love as time ran through my hands. Like grains of sand filling every crevice as it lands. Lands not on the floor, blown away by the wind. Abandons the once love-struck, never again to be pinned.

I don't know if I am wise but I had realized this fact. If I am depressed, I sure am living in my past. And if lessons of anxiety are becoming my tutor. Then surely this man is living in the future. I need to be with the flow, and not force any seconds. Become truly at peace, and start living in the present.

Double-edged blessings that I've been given. Petrified of death, yet I suffer while living. Quick to learn a task, but I've mastered nothing. Proficient with words, but only when I'm hurting. Burdened with a lot, yet always feeling empty. A cut above the rest. Mastery, I still envy. Entertaining others at the cost my joy. Always making promises for others to destroy. Constantly sick; I've been resuscitated thrice. Meddling with the reaper. I still roll the dice. In love with an angel, but she deserves better. My anxiety holding me back since forever. Will I ever get her? I can never be too sure. The Raven on the door tells joy, "nevermore" My friends pro'ly hate me. What is there to like? Am I preparing to write my last letter tonight? A good-bye to kin. My love, I'm at the end. I wish we were one. Now I start to descend. Don't weep that I left. Resurrect me when you reminisce. I doubt I may ever be thought of or missed.

I want you to heed, even though you won't. A house beside the beach; we'll call it home. Leisurely spending our time at the shore. I promise I shan't complain evermore. You lay in my arms as waves crash by. On your cheeks I may live. On the lips, I die. Let me be a tear created near the iris. A moment we share, of which I'm desirous. The altar that I pray to, to alter my misery. Vice-versa the case be. I'll be your tranquility. This writer is broken. Mend this fragile heart. And if history repeats, may this flourish my art.

I wandered away feeling me lifeless. Wondering if divinity may speak Searching the answer "How is life priceless?" Highest of points, on a tall mountain peak. Wisdom, not coveted. Selfish I probe. Eager to discover for peace at night. Driven by my past. Memories would strobe. With all their malice. With all of their might. "Why is wicked lust more common than love?" An answer sought after. Broken, I ache. I asked- I begged to the power above. My tears rained on. Drops created a lake. Haunted by the previous I sit still. Left with mere pain for my quill to distill.