Drowning in oxygen,
Pulsing blood against my will
I don't know why I'm so scared
To face my rotting paintings
The bugs that infested my past
The webs, the dust
The dirt and stains on the walls
The holes
What is so scary about an old building,
Which used to smell fresh
Wall painting and cement
Taste like red new bricks
Right out of the oven
From another abandoned house
That fell apart
To become the mud that makes
The new foundation
And it's all about to collapse again
What about the cycle,
If the end doesn't exist?
Why am I so scared to leave,
And so willing to,
If we don't end
Is peace an actual feeling?
Have I been drowing my entire life?
What was my first breath
My first pain
The first color that my eyes acknowledged
When did I start to be?
I wonder what will be my last
Day and photo that my mind takes
Unnoticed, expecting for a future
For a nostalgic peek
That will never come
I wonder how am I supposed
To stand existence
If I'm soaked in pain and guilt
If my days are foggy
And I feel the air as a dark grey texture
That peels me away
For me to become a flavored breeze
I wonder
If there's still anything for me to feel
That my give some worth
To my stay
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