Work Text:
***
When you're not sure why you're still alive,
your movements, even breathing are in stasis,
you shudder at the thought of keeping ties
with your inane job expectations and your studies,
if you are tired of all the unrelenting lies
they say to you and leave you sad and smarting,
don't be a slave of their wounded pride
and listen to the whispers of your heart strings:
just take a gun, a knife or something else
and leave this world behind for a new hell...
***
Don't try recalling yesterday's events,
don't try to guess, what's gonna be tomorrow.
To be an adult needs some inner strength,
but childish laziness makes all the efforts hollow.
Have no desires, wishes, will or courage –
the only things that left are wrath and melancholy,
a little terror at the prospect of the damage
your sleepless dreams will bring you in the morning...
***
You've heard a word so vague but full of fondness,
so simple but so obviously tricky –
a foolish question of your mutual worthiness,
a quiet whisper asking for forgiveness.
Wether it's rainy, sunny, day or night,
your pride is broken and your heart is mute...
Do you believe the course you chose is right –
to try and save the feeling that is doomed?..
***
There are some things you can't express with words
despite all the attempts to do exactly that.
The beautiful you can't perceive with orbs,
something ephemeral that can't be seen or said:
you have no language to describe this hazy sense,
though rhymes are crowding your brain and rushing forth...
***
You cry until it hurts and can't stop laughing,
since you have lost something essential:
survivor's guilt is strong, though it is nothing
to be ashamed of. After-almost-death is providential.