I am reckless, delusional and maybe a bit self centered.
See, I stay up all night and tweet about the thoughts that haunt me, about loneliness and emptiness…
Then I wake up the next day feeling blessed.
They read what I write and think that I’m having a hard fight “oh god look at that broken soul, god help him through his days and let him live til he’s old”
See, what they do not know is that I already won all of my battles and this is the aftermath.
My brain hosted more battles than the Coliseum.
Dark thoughts dropping dead like roman gladiators, history books were never detailed about their pain, nor can my pen fully explain mine.
See, I stay up all night feeling stressed, depressed and my thoughts are never fully expressed but that is not the fight.
The fight ended a long time ago and 3 am is when there is nothing to distract me from my battle scars.
The fight ended a long time ago and I’m still adapting to this peace, like an old war veteran meeting his family after calling the battlefield home for years.
But honestly though, I am at ease.
I just lost myself in my battles and now all I can do is help you fight yours.
Living through your battles convincing you that I’m guiding you but it’s only to entertain myself.
War is all I’ve known and I’m scared of getting to know myself.
But I am not fighting.
I’m just deciding whether to start clearing up the battlefield to build a new city or accept it as it is, because every dead body matters and I can’t bury my memories away. I don’t have enough time to grow flowers and trees and I honestly believe that this soil is too drenched in blood to know peace.
See, I wake up everyday feeling blessed but I can’t wait for the night to come for my soul to get undressed and to feel my scars and caress every heart break, headache, disappointment and regret.
Oh man I’m a mess.
I’ve read about how you can find love in unexpected places well I found mine in warzones, bloody fists and broken bones, but mama I’ve grown.
I fell inlove with my demons and god bless Rome.
So dad you don’t need to worry about your son no more
And mama I’m sorry I’m no longer the baby you’ve born
I’ve fought my battles and I’ve won them all alone.
This is me now, scars, blood, sweat and broken bones
This is me now, won all of my battles at a young age waiting for the world to collapse so you can feel the outrage
Safety is too demanding let me break outta this cage.
I’m a fighter not a poet so war is my stage.