Gone Are The Times

gone are the times

when you couldn't sleep

not knowing where I was.

and now this home again

is just as cold as i have

remembered.

I come back from the snowfall

to see my brother leaving and

to you sleeping soundly as ever

and I cannot be upset at any of that.

but I just wish growing old wasn't so hard

• "turning seventeen" - zero (me)

there's no gratitude in me

I am forever ungrateful

I am the rot that's spoiling this home

yet I am the only one who tries to run away

- zero (me)

there seems to be a universal understanding

of the fact that no good life was a good story

good lifes make good examples and I make

poetry and bonfire stories that can't go unheard

and I am glad for all the harm that was done

to me and only to me, for maybe it was better

to make my life worse and my poems relatable

noone reads poetry when they're alright, and

more so noone ever writes poetry when happy

maybe the stars aligned in this way for every poet

maybe god made us with a bigger purpose, than

any mortal happiness, made us for eternal things

written in ink and lived through in our own blood

- zero (me)

[ I finished writing my poetry book and I just know I will hate all of them in a year or two. I am never proud of my poetry. my mind is a burn book ]

around the dinner table

comes a story not so old

that they think does not

resonate anymore

about crooked floorboards

and cold water for months

and saving all your money

in order to save yourself

and when it ends they

hand you some cash since

these times are past us

but you know you're wise

and so put money in a jar

hidden from everyone

you have to save up

in order to save yourself

the times have never and

will never change

• savings jar - zero (me)

and I never asked to be a poet

but when I don't write

I always make a line

it's just a quick decision

whether I cut it

or snort it

and I could make myself bleed

or I could make a living

writing these sad lyrics

and shouting at strangers

doing both is working out

for how long? guess I'll try

to find out, and hopefully

make it out alive

"lyricist" - zero (me)

[it's yet another song draft rather than a poem but ayyyy writing block!!!! ]

the universe is screaming in my face

I stand under a clear sky and beg

beg it to let me feel at home

I get awoken at night to look to the sky

and see constellations I cannot read

the universe is screaming in my face

but numbers and stars aren't my language

and I was taught there's only one god

- zero (me)

(I've been slacking in posting poems because I'm working on a project that needs me to write poems in my native language, and those don't do well on Tumblr. not that anyone missed them)