Pot of gold

Deliberately hurting ourselves when certain things don’t go our way, intentionally reaping off our skin when life isn’t treating us fairly and when arguments arise; taking a stroll with our past whilst our future longs a dinner date or a single shot of espresso. Two paths formed into a single path our present faces a dilemma, not knowing whether to step forward or backwards, time walks into a cold room where our bodies will be washed for the last time.

Why isn’t the tie tighter, why isn’t the shirt covering more skin and why aren’t my shoes helping me escape this feeling? If I stormed out of my problems would I see the rainbow?

Keeping an eye on the positives while we’re surrounded by negative is sure draining to ourselves, trying by all means to hide the fact that there isn’t true happiness for us when we know the truth lies at the bottom of every bottle. This feeling seems to disappear for a while; this while will be cherished merely because it doesn’t come too often.