my fabricated nutshell
my head is a hive of words that won't settle down.
I've got words to say that i never do
trying to fill the void, with the same songs on repeat, the dust on my shelves, like rust on my messed up self. i broke my phone, again, shit.
i'm afraid i'll never fit into the framed silhoutte of the false paragons you desire
what if my head is a dystopic painting of the usual blacks and grays
if i could record all the thoughts that play through my head, the way my eyes scan the horde of people around, the myriad strings of my made-up playlists with fabricated characters woven into the lyrics. piling up the stack of songs that keep hovering over my lens.
Reckless, restless, these four walls that have consumed me, throughout
The crumpled bedsheet, the not so warm blanket In a room that screams at you
In the company of shadows i see my reflection in the shattered pieces of the mirror lying across the floor
They say home is where your heart is, and mine lies among the stars, across the universe.
Stars are formed when large giant clouds of gases (mainly hydrogen) collapse on themselves when gravitational attraction pulls them inward, causing them to