living for

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and to think
you wanted to die,
and never to see
the moon-lit sky.

scars and sins,
its so much more
deeper within.

the clock ticks slowly
like a steady metronome-
why has my thoughts
become so holy?

words cling together
as if they are drum sets
or a thunderstorm
being created within
this weather.

with all the disastrous
things in our lives,
it can be so beautiful
if that's how we
view it in our eyes.

and isn't that
worth living for?

Yellow Means Happy • PoetryWhere stories live. Discover now