bocold

terpenjara terkekang geraknya pengak nafasnya tak hilang sayangnya tak hilang kerja otaknya tak hilang pedulinya tak hilang jua kreatifitasnya ia fikirkan banyak hal namun tak banyak yang bisa ia lakukan tak bisa membuat sebuah pergerakan kemajuan diangannya tak terucapkan rencananya hilang kasih mereka hilang balas jasa padanya namun tak pernah hilang tekadnya tak perlu perang saudara katanya namun perang batin dihatinya bohong belaka katanya ia tak apa mana ada semuanya baik saja sakitnya mungkin tak terasa rindunya mungkin tak kunjung sirna belenggunya mungkin menyiksa harapannya tak pernah sirna ntah berapa tulisan ia rangkai dengan pena penghilang bosan juga teman sampai penghabisan harapan nanti kan terpublikasikan tumpul sudah penanya pudar sudah tintanya tapi suaranya takan padam oleh waktu oleh zaman

pagi ini aku menemuinya sudah lama tak jumpa dia marah pikirku benar saja datang tak bersambut detik kini tutupi hangatnya aku berdiri memaku diri tak bergurau tak bergeming beberapa lama ia tetap sama aku kembali ia tak kata berhenti

everything was easier when he was darkness and she was light, but they could not resist the temptation of being grey together

In the midst of boundless nature, I exist but do not exist. I now let go of everything and return to nothingness. I am happy and peaceful.

"You can taste sorrow in salt tears and in the bitterness of spoiled words left in your mouth for far too long. You can hear sorrow in a familiar song. You can hide sorrow behind closed doors and inside screams muffled by pillowcases. You can stick to sorrow as if it were gum in your hair; too mangled to brush out, too jarring to chop off. You can see sorrow in bloodshot eyes and shaky hands. You can get lost in sorrow when it knocks your life off course with no detour signs to redirect you. Most importantly, you can be found in sorrow by becoming a different version of your self, here, on the other side of tragedy." - Anonymous -