THE ONLY WAY I KNOW I'M ALIVE IS CAUSE IT HURTS

THE ONLY WAY I KNOW I'M ALIVE IS CAUSE IT HURTS

All I see is darkness, the kind you have at the pit of the ocean.

All I smell is salt, the saltiness that reminds me of the sea.

All I hear is darkness, maybe an occasional wave, but all dead silence.

All I taste is water, not the kind you drink, but the kind you surf in.

All I feel around me is darkness, something touching my skin but simultaneously, not.

And all my sixth sense can tell me is that,

                                                                  the only way you know you're alive is cause it hurts.

There is this emptiness surrounded by broken promises, where my heart used to be. It aches for something, someone to fill that void.

My lungs feel heavy, as if they are filled with stones, each marking a betrayal, and carrying an ocean of its tears.

The stomach, which at one point housed the butterflies, is a cavity. It's an abyss of dead hopes and dreams.

And all my mind can tell me is that,

                                                        the only way you know you're alive is cause it hurts.