The cold wind slipped into the room through the open windows, directly into my heart.
Each day passes by and memories become fainter and fainter, eventually fading away. The broken clock hanging on the white wall somehow manages to keep ticking to show us time, like this heart that is frozen but keeps beating to show that it is fine. Silence has held my hands longer than any of my friends ever has. These days, the pouring rain has clutched the town in its grasp. The breeze is moving swiftly along the shore, and maybe on the other side of this town, my sick body lying on the bed is willing to go for once. I just want to hang out with my hopes outside, and play with faith.
I’m yearning to fly away to a different world and not live here where no four-leaf clover is resting on my palms to help me on my way and where relentless sadness collides with this feeling of nothingness and lonesomeness and ends up leaving nothing but fathomless depression within my eyes. I long to go back to the days when everything I used to see was summoned in bright pastel colours. And when things were settled, and my heart was still in the shape of a diamond and not shattered.
It’s excruciating to see how far I’ve become, from a little fellow to a stiff corpse.
I just want to feel good again and
live the very life I lost. //
© prose & poetry