paradox

I will forever hold a grudge against myself the most. I will never feel granted again for my feelings are inevitable. Everything I am to feel is conflicted with something else. For no one has yet to open the lock to my doors, as my keys are hidden well within my walls. To think I was joyful a moment ago, just to fill my head loft with sorrowful thoughts. I laze like the sloth, but I feel so ready to do something when it hits. To love me, is to find me, find my soul, find my corpse, even though I hide, so far away, deep into silenced forests. To love me is to look, to look and see me, out of my disguise, out of my bubble, looking into the clear skies, with my head full of lines and thoughts that spill through my mouth into your ears, they fill your head. Pique your curiosity no more. I myself will never love myself fully, but only half, everything I do will be half, because I myself am only a half, while the other half is long distanced, running in a field of flowers, laughing, all alone, singing, even if it sounds bad, with the birds swarming all around, a peaceful sanctuary, I protect that half and that half is forever lost, deep within the forests.

-love, 99