Don't Make It Look So Pretty Burning...
Its darker, damp, gloomy. Its a place filled with doubt,fear and anger. Full of "what if's" and constant controdictions. Its a place raging tides and constant crashs keep you off balance. Where your only two options are suffication or holding your breath.Were your weighed down by the past and the only thing really keeping your head above the water is the possibility of a future. There are creaturs swimming around you nipping your legs waiting for you to drown,and most days its hard to keep floating. Its not a happy place, but occasionally you'll get a ray of sunshine, maybe if I'm lucky I get oneonce a week...If I'm lucky.But luck is almost as uncommon as a life saver in my little pool of black. I close my eyes and see swirling colors. They seem to be the only thing keeping me company.I started writing this with a purpose but I really don't remember what it was since I left school while in the middle of writing it but I found something similar that I wrote on May 2,2006 so i'm just going to post that
Picture This:
Its dark, no light at all. The air is still, stale. Theres no circulations. You've been breathing the same air for months. There is an invisable weight sitting on your chest. Pushing against you. Its crushing you, making it so hard for you to breath that stale air. Your shackled but there seemingly aren't any walls. No floor, or ceiling, your floating in dark space. But you see no excape for you can't move. You Are A Prisoner.Your ears hear muffled sound. In one ear out the other. Hopeless, numb,alone. Fear. This is it. Its that dark space, the weight on your chest. Its the shackles holding you in place. Its the stale air that burns when you breath it. Fear. Its whats holding you back from excaping. Whats outside this space? Whats going to happen once the weight lifts? Once your set free? Fear. Its that lulling voice in the back of your head that sooths you, that calms you. Its the voice that sings you into a restless sleep as you float there, chained. That is..if it lets you sleep at all. Fear. This is what we feel. Fear. This is how I live.
Picture This:
Its dark, no light at all. The air is still, stale. Theres no circulations. You've been breathing the same air for months. There is an invisable weight sitting on your chest. Pushing against you. Its crushing you, making it so hard for you to breath that stale air. Your shackled but there seemingly aren't any walls. No floor, or ceiling, your floating in dark space. But you see no excape for you can't move. You Are A Prisoner.Your ears hear muffled sound. In one ear out the other. Hopeless, numb,alone. Fear. This is it. Its that dark space, the weight on your chest. Its the shackles holding you in place. Its the stale air that burns when you breath it. Fear. Its whats holding you back from excaping. Whats outside this space? Whats going to happen once the weight lifts? Once your set free? Fear. Its that lulling voice in the back of your head that sooths you, that calms you. Its the voice that sings you into a restless sleep as you float there, chained. That is..if it lets you sleep at all. Fear. This is what we feel. Fear. This is how I live.