Contelysia

I'll be fine one day. Maybe won't see the colors as bright, Not be as shiny as a stroke of light. The yellows and oranges and pinks won't appear, And, oh, the sunflower we held so dear. What do I do , I ask you. What do I do as it gets tougher and tougher to cry, My joy, my thoughts all gone awry, My cruelty all spent on me. What do I do of my ears that search for your laughter? Not gone today, tomorrow, or the day after? What do I do of the days I'll spend crawling back? I don't hear the silence, I just sit in it. All I hear is your voice in your words, Coax myself to shield, 'cause it still hurts. It still hurts, but I don't show it. Neither do you, even if it ever hurt you. Does your heart ache like mine does? Do you plan out your days so you won't spend a moment thinking of me? ...but still do? Do you think of me like I do? I'll be fine one day, I tell myself everyday. Perhaps see the colors of what they are. Perhaps trust those that seem real. N

Cover my heart with scratches and wounds, Let it bleed as it beats slowly. With bleeding cuts across my chest, tattooed streaks on my cheeks, I walk down the emptiest road, Tears glistening as the streetlights flicker to death. I stare at the moon tirelessly, Wondering if it's still the symbol I so desperately wanted it to be. My vision blurs as the white shines down the street, My hands freeze as they numb in the cold air, My legs shake from the long way I've come, My breaths get shallower and shallower. I don't know how long I can hold out now. The street is too empty, the path is too dark. It is too cold. What's the point of suffering when the suffering leads nowhere? What's the point of breaking the fall when my knees bleed anyway? I drop down. Tired— Wasted away like the burning flower that never reached full bloom. My chest still bleeds as my arms wrap around me, My blood stains my whole being until I'm nothing but a crimson shadow. A shadow that refuses t