airplane mode

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The world can wait for a while.
Or disappear completely.

Verse 2
She lies in bed,
stares at the ceiling,
as if she could find
an explanation there.
The room is quiet,
too quiet,
and yet so loud
inside her head.

But her thoughts
aren't clear.
They're empty.
Completely burned out.
As if something
took all the light away.

Chorus
She doesn't want to hear anything.
Feel anything.
Explain anything.
Not because she doesn't love anyone,
but because the depression
takes away everything
she used to be.
She lies there
and knows only one thing:
She can't do this anymore.

Verse 3
Messages remain unread,
calls fade into nothing.
Not because they don't matter,
but because they
have become too heavy.

Every expectation
presses against her chest.
Every thought
is another stone.
And she wonders
when exactly
she stopped
feeling herself.

Verse 4
She vaguely remembers
days
when breathing was easy.
Moments
when laughter
wasn't an effort.

Now everything feels
like an endless evening
that never turns into night,
but simply
stays there.

Chorus (quieter, more tired)
She doesn't want to fight anymore.
Doesn't want to be strong anymore.
Doesn't want to explain
why everything hurts so much,
without a reason.
Her thoughts are quiet,
but not peaceful.
Just empty.
And that emptiness
scares her.

Bridge
She turns onto her side,
pulls the blanket higher,
as if she could hide
from herself.
Airplane mode stays on.
Not as a goodbye.
More like a pause.
One
that she desperately needs.

Chorus
She doesn't want anything.
Not tomorrow.
Not now.
Just this one feeling,
that everything would stop
being so heavy.
But even that
she barely
dares to wish for.

Outro
The phone stays silent.
The blanket stays the same.
And she lies there,
somewhere between breathing
and giving up,
secretly hoping
that something
is still holding her.

2020/7500

Verse 1 She puts her phone on airplane mode, not out of anger, not out of hate. She simply doesn't have the strength anymore for voices, for questions, for that “How are you?” she has no answer for. The world can wait for a while. Or disappear completely. Verse 2 She lies in bed, stares at the ceiling, as if she could find an explanation there. The room is quiet, too quiet, and yet so loud inside her head. But her thoughts aren't clear. They're empty. Completely burned out. As if something took all the light away. Chorus She doesn't want to hear anything. Feel anything. Explain anything. Not because she doesn't love anyone, but because the depression takes away everything she used to be. She lies there and knows only one thing: She can't do this anymore. Verse 3 Messages remain unread, calls fade into nothing. Not because they don't matter, but because they have become too heavy. Every expectation presses against her chest. Every thought is another stone. And she wonders when exactly she stopped feeling herself. Verse 4 She vaguely remembers days when breathing was easy. Moments when laughter wasn't an effort. Now everything feels like an endless evening that never turns into night, but simply stays there. Chorus (quieter, more tired) She doesn't want to fight anymore. Doesn't want to be strong anymore. Doesn't want to explain why everything hurts so much, without a reason. Her thoughts are quiet, but not peaceful. Just empty. And that emptiness scares her. Bridge She turns onto her side, pulls the blanket higher, as if she could hide from herself. Airplane mode stays on. Not as a goodbye. More like a pause. One that she desperately needs. Chorus She doesn't want anything. Not tomorrow. Not now. Just this one feeling, that everything would stop being so heavy. But even that she barely dares to wish for. Outro The phone stays silent. The blanket stays the same. And she lies there, somewhere between breathing and giving up, secretly hoping that something is still holding her.

0/500