I see people who have the same faces

Tying their shoe laces

Living in different places 

Solving different cases 

On the basis 

That I live no more. 

Picking at a scab

Time doesn’t heal all wounds.

The size of the fracture stays the same.

The damage done is damage done. Nothing can change that. 

You can try change how you look at it but if the grass is green it doesn’t matter if it’s greener on the other side: either way it’s still green. 

I miss this

I miss writing, journalling.

I know this is a blog and I am suppose to, well not write what I write. Be less conversational and less person and less criptic. 

Some people find it poetic. 

What do you guys think when you read something like this? 

Something more memoir, more diary like, the thoughts of another human being you barely know?

Yet, you probably know their (my) inner most deepest thoughts, more than most who know me personally. However, they’re so out of context does it just pass you by? Or does it fustrate you, do you want to know more? 

The sun will rise

“Not again!” I scream, 

The sun is down like me

Lost with no self esteem

From this monster, I’ll never be free
But the sun will rise

Again for us tomorrow

As the darkness dies

And if it rains: rainbow.