For countless times I thought I have moved on from my dark childhood.

I have’t. Can;t imagine when I will.

Within piles of memories, there are happy and irreplaceable ones. They were indeed treasured but turned sad when recalled.

All the attempts, return to the afternoon many years ago, when I decided to be a mute, like, forever.

When all of this started.

It takes seconds to make a man cold, emotionless, heartless and mute, but it takes days, weeks, months or even years to undo.

The one who is positive, emotional and pleasant to be with, isn’t gone but will be through time.

The one who is dark, cruel, silent and flat isn’t new, just hidden inside all the years.

Who I was, who I am, who I will be.

Who were you, who you are, who you will be.

Blurry vision, fuzzy hearing, daylight dreaming.

Faulty scenes clouded unreliable judgements.

Drinking tears, hiding blue, sticking wounds together.

Inner salts splash on nerves,

making sad souls sadder.

Call me this,

call me that,

I really don’t care.

 

Peal a bit,

look inside,

see if I’m real.

 

What you call me,

meant something,

just not now.

Give me a pillow,

give me a permission,

and I’ll tell you,

what does tired mean.