My hands are empty and there, where your face used to wait for me until I woke up, there exists a space of nothingness, abyss and hollowness
My body feels like it has deliberately left my soul, my mind and my spirit: I am another person, I don’t coexist with these parts of me
I watch myself in the mirror, but am I the person that I see in the reflection? Sometimes I feel like I’m more than that, sometimes I feel like I’m less than that
I wake up and do my errands, I live as any other human being would: I eat, I work, I sleep. But when I do so, I feel like it’s someone else doing it for me, and my true self is somewhere else, lost and found in the highness of the mountains, discovering new sceneries, getting high and drunk from the fullness of new cultures
And I could be taking in all the goodness that life has to offer me, but that doesn’t mean anything if you’re not here by my side
But I have to remember: we’re not lovers, you just wanted to have fun with me once
My mind just runs around trying to connect together words with meaning, words that might sound like poetry, but this is not poetry. It has never been
It’s just what I feel, and sometimes I feel like I can’t do nothing, sometimes I feel like there’s so much I can do but yet, that would never be enough.
I want more. I want more. I want more.
After all I’m just human, what can I say? I am never truly satisfied, and conformism is not a word that I get along with
I want success in all aspects of life, and I won’t stop until I get there
I’ve had too much of heartbreaks, I’ve had too much of disappointments, I’ve had too much of feeling down
It’s my time for fulfillment, even though I wanted you around to share it with me
My love, my drug, my lord,
I have to let you go,
And I have to convince myself: this space is not hollowness, and the nothingness will be replaced with something better: be faith, think faith, feel faith.
It will come.
And it will feel like poetry.