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Welcome, once again, dear reader, to this world of depressing mania, of everything and nothing colliding and creating my own little slice of this concept we call reality.
My absence has been long, and apologies shall be given, but truthfully I got lost in my life, in changes, and fell back on old habits. Constant stimuli. Feeding my brain with what distracts me, and feeling a high that no mind should ever feel. Screens on screens on screens, conversations happening in between conversations, and everything colliding into everything.
...So, I wrote a song about it
repeating, repeating,
yet your brain is seething
calmed by colors and lights,
how theyre ever so bright
yet how it affects you
never crosses your mind
the other, the anger,
and those in between,
forgotten with time,
the thoughts gone silent,
the colors and lights,
however so bright,
will make you yourself,
forgotten by you
the bad, the good
quickens its pace
your brain craving
a more rapid pace
stimuli flows
through your thin veins
the blood burning
like its a high
but as you take a breath,
you realize the fog
hours pass, even days,
trapped in a waste of time,
and that you remember,
your life is but your own,
and reevaluate,
that you have killed yourself,
through
repeating, repeating,
yet your brain is seething
calmed by colors and lights,
how theyre ever so bright
yet how it affects you
never crosses your mind
repeating, repeating,
while repairing a mind,
broken from the colors,
the lights that shine so bright,
replaced with the quiet
roaring cacophony
of a silence of noise
yet your brain is seething
calmed by colors and lights,
how theyre ever so bright
yet how it affects you
never crosses your mind
the other, the anger,
and those in between,
forgotten with time,
the thoughts gone silent,
the colors and lights,
however so bright,
will make you yourself,
forgotten by you
the bad, the good
quickens its pace
your brain craving
a more rapid pace
stimuli flows
through your thin veins
the blood burning
like its a high
but as you take a breath,
you realize the fog
hours pass, even days,
trapped in a waste of time,
and that you remember,
your life is but your own,
and reevaluate,
that you have killed yourself,
through
repeating, repeating,
yet your brain is seething
calmed by colors and lights,
how theyre ever so bright
yet how it affects you
never crosses your mind
repeating, repeating,
while repairing a mind,
broken from the colors,
the lights that shine so bright,
replaced with the quiet
roaring cacophony
of a silence of noise
yours truly,
Rosethorn Rae
Rosethorn Rae
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