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Haunting Sunday
Sunday blues this early morning, I hold my chest and close my eyes, wish I could escape from this war where dreams fade and silence lies The tea cools, the clock keeps tickingits hands like ghosts that never rest, In this hollow space I find myself slipping into a world that feels half-possessed The walls feel closer, the air thinner, a quiet ache I can’t ignore for all the places I’ve never been and all the things I can’t restore So here I linger, lost and fading between the should-have-beens and might, a tender heart forever waiting for Sunday’s dawn to give me light.
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Birthday triggers and a sunrise
Every year around the sun has come with a new challenge since my decades climbed more ladders. I’ve had to pick myself up from every imaginable scenario; through the existential dreads, mood swings, from every harmful mental stage. I’m glad that I have, but it always leaves room to wonder, have I gotten this right? Should I care? And, why? And it seems like a thing that one day came to stay: good ol’ birthday sadness. So the question remains: why is my birthday so triggering instead of bringing me happiness? It seems the farther I go into my double digits the harder it becomes to dig it. Everything and…
