Laminar.

Been riding in these gushes of wind.
Never cared for the destination.
Enjoying the stops every now and then.
Taking in the light without hesitation.

Who would've known id not last long.
The rays burned me inside.
Exterior seemed normal and strong.
But the former couldn't hide.

How are these heights daunting yet calm.
These winds a source of warmth yet cold.
The system is broken, could it be?
Or it never existed? seems to me.

The questions they run through my head.
Embedded with hatred and deceit instead.
Not the good ones, about me and you.
Love and purity or anything true.  

Damned.

Lately I've been having a hard time recognizing my purpose. I feel lost. Like all the things that i had thought i would be are becoming more like a vague memory. The distance between me and my goals are increasing exponentially. The potential that i once had has just vanished jnto thin air and it seems i am not really good at anything. With all of this, the only thing that is actually increasing is my lust for appreciation. For some reason without doing anything at all, i want to be given a reward. Someone telling me that i am doing a great job knowing all too well that i have done nothing at all.

Writing used to be a way out, an opening or a door to my inner peace. But door has somehow become too heavy for me to push and open.