An empty life

i wake up so late,
my daddy scolds
and my mumma follows.
isn’t it a warm welcome?

and i walk here
and there
with disheveled hair
and baggy clothe.

and i sadly look
at my academic books,
things spilling out of
my procrastination lid

and i paint and
paint, only to
tear the pages
and cry.

and i write and
write, only to
stop it midway
as always.

and i go to my lazy
bed to sleep
and rescue, only
to wake up hungry

but i eat very
very little,
and drink only
when my body aches.

and i think
of this vast universe
but always end up
doing nothing

and when the night
is still, and when
everyone is in dreams.
i scroll up n down the screen.

scrolling to stop
at the faraway –
writers and artists
i love too much

and i wish i had
them beside me
to kiss and hug
all day and night.

and i go to bed
with a heart full of
aching poems
and hollow hands.

my heart is often
a violent ocean,
and it overflows
all over my body.

midnight is always
a battle time.
and i terribly swim
to grasp for my life.

© Sanna Wren

Image credit goes to the respective Instagram user

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