He wrote beautiful things.
Like he knows it all.
I was truly amazed by his writings about love and life.
I want to write a poem for him.
A gratitude for someone like him is here - the feeling of being in those words.
Are you tired of believing that someone will save you?
You keep on saving others and now look at yourself. Do you even think about it? If no one can, no one will. Instead of saving others save yourself first.
Series of sadness
It’s better to call it like this
A series of sadness
Depression, a word that I will never call.
Just by saying it makes my mind turns in to air.
Slowly turning in to gas, but it’s so heavy to hear it - depression.
Series of sadness, a nice way to hear it but still the sameness is there.
You couldn’t cheat about it. No matter what word/words will you say, they still have the same content.
They’re like two different external things with the same internal means.
Moments that you want to die.
I noticed that I wrote beautiful things since then. How come it’s gone in my mind? The beautiful things fade. Just like how you fade under my sheets.