There comes a time

when nothing remains for us

to say to ourselves,

The depression intensifies,

The last piece that used to make us smile each morning

begins to ebb.

There comes a time when we sob for no good reason,

when tears well our eyes all of a sudden,

and people mock us.

There comes a day when we become tired of ourselves,

of this world and chaos,

when we get tired to fight

and want to sleep for a while,

want to end this war for a minute

before moving on.

A time comes when we want to become the worst of ourselves,

of our hearts, of our lives,

when we want to live life

in the most miserable way ever—

recklessly, with no one to care.

A day comes when the matte lipsticks

color our swollen lips in red pain

slowly caging our mouth, then throat.

When the mascara border the eyes

with thick warm tears,

when the mere cosmetics

swell our hearts in pain,

When his "copy-and-paste" excuses

tattoo my eyes in turmoil.

Nothing seems okay when everything is.

A certain time comes when ignoring

turns way more difficult than smiling at problems.

When telling them my pain becomes tougher

than smiling at it.

When holding my feelings back

pierce and bruise the walls of my heart,

of my brain, of my whole body.

A certain numbness, recklessness, boldness

overwhelm our hearts.

An outrageous feeling shrouds our shoulders,

The complicated calculation that goes wrong every time

ease our nerves, our tangled thoughts;

when we turn ice-cold

after burning for decades

in utter agony, none seems to care of.

And at the end of the day,

when these make me insane,

and I want so hard to drive them away,

I went back to them like a migratory bird

to the dead bruises.

I know my life's half-based on them;

they are the pillar of my existence.

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