Darkness in my heart,

I’m in a world apart.

The devil can’t decide,

if it’s him or I who lied.

The world is a scary place you know,

killers and critics every place you go.

“Do this, do that”, they say.

I guess pain is the price I’ll have to pay.

Is this a dream or reality?

Confining to punctuality.

Can you hear the violence in the air?

Superheroes die, and the world is in despair.

No shoulder to cry on, sadness from dusk till dawn.

Hearing murmurs of chants from Zion.

The feeling of loneliness overtakes the happiness that was once there.

The days passed by and overgrown is my hair.

Life sucked out of me as I stare at a blank wall.

Check my phone, no where to go and no one to call.

I look up and see men drinking whiskey and rum,

my face colored a slight red, as I hear a familiar hum.

I listen closely to this series of sounds,

cancelling the noise of my hearts loud rhythmic pounds.

It was the song I listened to in dreamland,

It was the answer, a helping hand.

It was euphoria for five minutes.

A brighter world with no limits.

Dreaming of a better tomorrow,

where we love, accept and grow.

We were all happy and free,

united and all in one symphony.

But that joy doesn’t last.

Tuning into reality, and happy is already the past.

Dreading being in this hateful world,

feeling like I don’t belong and my memory swirled.

Tragic events that happen and we pass by.

As the human race slowly deteriorates and we just sigh.

Ladies in the corner laughing and giggling,

children packed together and fidgeting.

Young boys laughing at the girls,

as the girls carelessly dance in twirls.

Babies scream as they grow tired and hungry,

mothers feed them under the old slung tree.

Every night I live and die,

no one cares about my shallow cry.

Got a hundred people surrounding me,

still feel lonely, to the highest degree.

I hate socializing and the weather,

self loath as I bite on leather.

I watch the wasters, blow the speakers.

See people bowing down to their leaders.

Flashing lights above are glorious,

what a perfect time to rebel and be notorious.

I don’t know, if they keep telling me where to go,

I’ll blow my brains out to the radio.

All the stories I write,

scandals in the limelight.

We drink and we smoke,

yet, not an ounce of hope.

Scorching our faces,

to find perfect places.

Trying to find these perfect places, but what are they anyway?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inspired by Lorde’s song Perfect Places.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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