The happiness I laugh through
The pain that I cry out
The loneliness that envelopes me
Can that be explained to someone?
Not with words; they never communicate,
They are hollow pictures
That never carry anything in the frame.
Maybe with a look, Or a touch or as a memory,
I just need my life written by them
I am tired sometimes, of myself
And the world within
It never unfolds as "normalcy" expects
And I always end up
Doubting my own sanity all the time...
I guess I need some rest and good sleep!
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