Free Time

  Free time, is what I suffer from. After you're gone, with a phantom left before me, I've nothing to do, but writing letters to you. None of them are sent. All of them are in my drawers. Every day I meet you, I head back to my room, and read all the letters. I write letters sent to you and replied to me.....by you which, actually, you've never written. I read them in your tune, I understand them the way you'd get it, and write the replying letters in the way you would write it, in the handwriting you'd create.

  I am not desperate. I am not lonely. It is just the way I replaced you with letters and the way you replaced me with empty air, makes me a winner. A heartless winner. My dignity doesn't hold me from knocking on your door. My heart doesn't advise me to stop beating when you're around. It's simply my brain convinced the rest of my existence that hating you is easier than accepting you as a companion in my life.

  Wait, I haven't told you about the content of the letters? They are lyrics. That's what I'd on mind. Every song is about what you'd suffer from by now. Every word is about what I'd say to support. All I had on mind was... lyrics. The ink I had to write these words on these poor papers which has no fingerprints but mine, is the music. Music varied from being crazy, with none resting beats to a piece of soothing music. Some of the words will make you laugh, some of them will make you go insane, some of them will make you quit trying to have revenge from life which you're about to hate.

  So, tell me what do you do in your free time, but escaping the thought of me? I mean, when do you have a time free of me?