I think artists are neither dead nor alive. They’re in an in-between state. Half in the realm of the living, half in the realm of the dead.
she’s alive, so alive with her dead heart and her dreams into the stars she took a dive abandoning her misery, scars, scorn and screams! -the gypsy
oh ifs, the beautiful ifs oh ifs, the devastating ifs.. -the gypsy
my head hurts from all this mundane shit. i wish i could somehow just not exist? i’m not being thankless i just find it hard to breathe among these people… how do they live with themselves after being mean to other people? why don’t they feel remorse after they hurt someone in whatever way? why?…
few are born with the eyes to see the “whys” behind the “whats”. -the gypsy
why my happiness becomes my doom? but funny I seek bliss in my eventual gloom.. -the gypsy
If anything, this pain has given me a reason to write. It makes me whole in the most horrifying and painful ways. This pain has made me “me”. The compassionate and an understanding me. I know it’s never easy. You may get used to things being that way, people being that way, but it never…
Nobody ever listens. Nobody. My mum doesn’t listen when I’m talking to her. My siblings don’t either when I’m telling them something. And my friends pretty much do the same. And so, I stop talking. Sometimes, I repeat what I had said earlier. Other times, I shut them out or act like I had said…
the wordsmiths one day burnt all the paper-towns the artists poured terpentine and burnt the painted crowns for the loss was great but not enough to mourn and that day, people who never give a shit were born! -the gypsy (this picture and the poetry belongs to me) Visit my Instagram for more pictures!
You can always suffer some more. We humans, we adapt. -the gypsy PS the picture is by me. :p
all those wishes that come true indeed, never come true without consequences… careful what you wish for! -the gypsy
and sometimes, I see a star shining in the dark.. just when I’m about to lose hope. -the gypsy