I lost myself this week



I kissed you a thousand times
but it still feels fine
your arms in mine
your pain is my crime
and the other way around...


this is not really a poem

this looks like a story, like that story I wrote about a foolish man
only to show the world what I can...

in this dark age this is my heart
it's black and blue
it tells a tale
the reason why I love you...

don't judge me over some mistakes
I want the world to know, how it feels to fake
to fake your whole life
and to get freedom of a knife

i lived for 17 years in a dream
over a few months I'm 18
and responsibility will rush in
nothing to do about that
and still
deep inside
I still
want to hide

cuz pain is to much for me
it still hurts
the curtain fell
it's fallen down
covered the wounds and scarves

but despite of the view, the pain is still there...

and they will never fade, just like the memories I create...

just like the stories I made...