appreciation and depression

"Peter Pan balloon" by jservigna

Are the fogs too thick, or are our eyes the replicas of Oedipus, was this labyrinth too long, so long for it to become our home, the reality, which we so long to cheat. It is like the end, underground, a hundred wise, heroes of action, with triple A and S trophies would not be able to replenish this air, of de, oppression of our minds, brains dried out, and filled with green liquor.

Do teenagers need to live in prisons to feel the freedom, do we need to repeat 1939 to repent on our present thoughts. Do we need to burn the libraries to long for education, knowledge, do we need to break our limbs to feel the appreciation, do we need crush all the lights to regret the darkness we lured.

Is that the only way for us to step back from the cliff, still with tons of reasons to appreciate the view in front, the yellow paint on the blue canvas, the never-ending lines approaching the grains in front of the green forest.

Is the emergency room the only way to emerge to life, do our loved ones need to sacrifice for us, for us to accept the facts, the facts. Why is it that the people with one lung appreciate the air more, people with one arm, use the left one more, people with no family, love their family more.

Where did the promise fade away, that love is in the air, when the only thing we feel is toxic that fills our brains. What happened to the saying about the sun rising at dawn, when the only things rising are zombies evading the light, longing for the night.

What will happen tomorrow, some may know, I just hope, that the pill before the relief won’t consist of the dirt we spit, that the pain won’t be as high as we think we are.

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