It's funny how I feel comfort in the rain,
And how the sun makes me feel alienated,
Really it's weird,
The only times I feel secure is when im crying,
The best day of my life will, probally, be the same day im dying,

To me bliss is worse than pain,
It comes in then leaves so quick, Like a ghost,
Where did it come from, where did it go,
Then I start to miss that euphoric rush,
The pain trickily comes back faster than the bliss,
Ready to hit me harder than before,

Soon I learn to become numb again,
This way the wounds dont sting so much,
But still they stay keen to the touch,
Painful, but bearable,

Then again, bliss flys in like a rollercoaster without tracks,
Giving me that rush again, I become uneasy,
Clutching on to my fate, I wait,
For the sun to die down again,
And for the night to bring me more wounds.

K.M Nyquist