Sitting in the corner of my room,
with myself
all alone.
With the unwanted thoughts,
running in my head,
repeatedly.
Holding pen,
idea popping,
started writing.
The only thing
I voluntarily
do, right now.
To release pain,
to pursue emotions.
Been born a worrier,
worrier of everything.
Possibly my genome
unsolicited self.
Why?
One small word,
one short syllable,
taking control my life
arbitrarily.
Why?
I vividly remember.
It keeps haunting
chasing
tailing me
Endlessly.
Why?
I refrain myself,
and cease the lights.
To the happiness
foolishly.
To live properly,
remain as the sole reason.
To the real
and true
Metamorphosis.
-r.rina
11.3.2018