Dawn

Flygohr
Flygohr
Oct 28 · 2 min read
NEED A HAND? NEED AN END? by Flygohr

This is the dawn of the loser,
The night behind, that goes up in flames,
Burning in her search of answers.
When you’re alone with yourself, but you never are. In the midst of people, with nobody around, it’s just the same thing.
This is the edge that you run close to, the abyss that opens beneath you.

When I said that perhaps there is not just one misfit out there. There are many.
It’s a massacre, atrocious stabs open your chest, leave you breathless. And so you remain bent, pathetic, crying.
This is the dawn of all the memories,
The night behind, soft and dark. Welcoming, yet so distant, moving away from you.
When you would like to fall asleep forever, so maybe you don’t hear how it ends.
This is the dawn of the insomnia, of the paranoia.

The dawn of your mistakes,
The night behind, tired and dark.
You fall faster, and this time it’s not like they will save you. It’s not like you’ve got a parachute.
You walk and walk, and you are alone. You would be so glad someone would notice you walking.
This is the dawn of anger.
The night behind, red with the blood of your fists thrown against mirrors and walls.
Who cares.

What’s so hard about saying goodbye?
I’m happy to be just what you seem to see.
This is the dawn of destruction,
The night behind, in which we destroy our dreams.
In which we kiss and lie and write on walls stuff that we’ll soon forget.

This is the dawn of the loser,
The night behind, that goes up in flames.
Burning in search of answers.

Flygohr

Written by

Flygohr

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