The nights spent staring at the ceiling of my small dark room has left me silent.
As I stared above at nothing but dry crippled plasters,
I wondered just when life had gone from achingly alluring to mind-numbingly treacherous towards me.
How life had turned from good to evil so fast that I forgot to blink
Forgot to let the past slide from my grip.
Like a character from a poorly done film,
life changed its behaviour.
its pattern in such a blunt way;
I couldn't help but feel raged as I watched.
Life changed.
From a fallen petal of a rose to a dead rotten plant,
life had changed drastically.
And like a broken record,
I stayed in the exact same position as I watched life unwind its true colours in front of me.
I am like a picture now.
A snapped memory that is still as a red brick lying on the cold ground, unnoticed
The only difference is that I lay still on my bed every night.
Listening,
To my life,
To my silence.
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