for the ones tired stuck in pattern i guess

for the ones tired stuck in pattern i guess

detta klassas inte som vardagsfilosofi, själ och absolut inte poesi...
vad ska man säga...ibland blir man bara t r ö t t .


Comes to a point where bitterness is what you spend your time on teaching and learning
when loneliness starts tasting like metal
Your soul starts to shrinking together into this mould of what they all did to settle.
as a result, your left serving a military base in tragedy
disappointment of others, pin your ears back to the hymn of your failed faculty
you finally think you’ve figured out what your soul bottom of life is, and expresses it with a notion of respect and deletion in your bliss
there will not be any respect or trust in your capacity nor in your strength loved ones or your civility.
All you are now is a failure and a collector of set-back distress.
Your anti-climax keeps growing into a path where you have no one to impress, no one to run from and sure as hell no one to be your b l e s s.
The people you admired, have gone to have their forty winks, you have burned your links, do you get this motherFLOWER ??? Think!!!
You have now used up all they ever offered you to feel, left with no other encouragement and words to steal.
Someone told me once, the lowest pit of thrill, is nicking someone else’s art line and skill.
Time to find your own, time to glorify someone else except musical voices and imaginary hidden fortunes.
Time to wake up. Time to get fed up time to jump off someone’s lap, haha this is so damn f***ed up!
This is not one of those sad self-pity lines, I Thorne my past apart by burning the near future explosive mines; only people left to tsunamitise are the ones who never saw your defeat and only remember your high horse seat.
Only people left are the ones who never knew your ways, the ones you never had to impress.
Sad, isn’t it? had to impress to feel like an empress.
Past is done did and not to be do.
So this is my move the HELL on and thank you.