𝘃𝗶𝗮 𝗥𝗲𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝗼𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼, 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺 𝗣𝗛
It used to feel like living inside that film,
Inside Out — where joy and colors brim,
where tiny voices kept my heart in flight,
where even sadness still felt somehow right.
My mind was a world full of glowing rooms,
memories wrapped in soft pastel blooms,
Imagination dancing without restraint,
painting my skies with stories I’d paint.
But slowly, unnoticed, the colors grew thin,
the laughter grew quieter beneath my skin.
Joy stopped singing and sat at the floor,
while sadness knocked heavier against every door.
I didn’t see it at first — the slow decay,
the way my bright islands were fading away.
One by one, they crumbled to gray,
and wonder packed up and wandered astray,
because sadness touching my imagination day.
What used to come easy now felt like a chore,
ideas became burdens I tried to ignore.
The worlds I had built grew silent and cold,
and dreams turned to echoes of stories untold.
Burnout, they called it, but it felt like grief,
like about, losing myself beyond belief.
I watching the lights in my head slowly die,
while pretending I’m fine, as the days pass by.
Inside me, the control board grew dim,
no more colors brimming at the brim.
No more joy to steer the way,
just hollow hours and skies of sadness-gray.
I miss the child who once could create,
who believed imagination could open the gate.
But now I sit with a heart worn out,
feeling my mind turn inside out.
