I am a flower that is rotten but is waiting to bloom. Some, unfortunately,

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I am a flower that is rotten but is waiting to bloom. Some, unfortunately, have a Vice Versa fate. Atleast i think so.

But, time plays a key part.
Time.
To the weather that shall be emitted in my heart.

It goes. It goes. It goes.

A line that's fucking everything up.

It's four in the morning and i still am not sleeping because i like to wait for the sunrise. It leaves me with only silence,
filtering me of all things that could affect me. Nothing that can get out of my head and ricochet off my static and eternal walls. And when that happens, it leaves only one thing that sits still in my mind.

My thoughts.

Always the same pattern.

I made peace with the fact that i'm a broken piece of glass long ago. i'm just searching for all my parts with a glimpse of hope that i can finally arrange myself.

And that same time and that same line seems to flow faster at dawn, or at least i'm feeling that effect. As if all my pieces run away faster.


And why do i feel like i am hungry? Hungry for someone just telling me that they love me back?

Would that be my final manifest of eternal comfort? Will i even care for all the pieces of myself that i've shed?

Oh, do i love exploring this lake inside my head. But oh, do i curse the fact that it freezes once i lay down inside my bed.

And while my dreams slide on the lake, the dammned timeline takes its time, reminding me that i still can have her, use her, for something to make.

BUT I AM SO FUCKING SCARED, FOR GOD'S SAKE.