The sights, the sounds, the smells, the time. The feelings, the fashion, the tenderness, the rhyme. Sigh, oh how the world changes, and how the world spins, rotates, and revolves, till we’re caught in our oblivion. Till we’re lost. . . So lost, that there’s no turning back.
Yes, time fades, so to speak. It heals wounds, or deepens scars. It holds you back, or pushes you forward. Yet, at some point or another in life, you’re caught in its sticky web of controversy, lies, hate, spite, pain, anger, betrayal, faith. And you cannot breathe. You choke, you gasp for air, you suffocate. . . Till you give in, or till you’re saved. How lucky can one get? How many times may one be saved? Can we really answer that? It’s subjective. . . It depends. . Then again, doesn’t everything? Every spec, every letter, every word. . . Every action.
Some answers can never be questioned, while some questions. . . are best left unanswered. Are the unanswered questions as such, ‘cause there IS no answer? Or simply because. . they can hurt you so deeply. . you’ll probably never know life for it’s beauty ever again?
Questions, questions, questions. I’ve had too much time at my hands to ponder over them. Maybe, just maybe, that’s why I’m so lost. Caught unawares, in this myriad of broken dreams. Dreams left behind by so many, left incomplete for so many reasons that will never be discovered, never be understood.
Don’t try to fix me, I’m not broken. . .
I’m not broken, but I am breaking. Breaking ‘cause I’m lost in this world, so full of itself, lost in this world, where nobody cares. They don’t think twice about the amount of pain and suffering mere words can bring about. But why should they? Is it not in their right, to take whatever pleasure they can get from what is around them? They can. But at the cost of others?
No. They can, but they just shouldn’t. The pain is overwhelming. Too overwhelming, it has driven men to insanity, and they’ve been stuck in an asylum created by their minds. The most dangerous place, the only place man will never be able to understand- the human mind in all its power.
A place so dangerous, even the darkest pits of Erebus aren’t as dreary, as enervative as one’s own mind, and all of its assumptions, its complications, and its many conjured demons.
Deathly. That, it is.
My mind’s eye can see your lies, your hate, your spite, your pain. My mind’s eye can see through you, I can see through you, yet, I won’t let you see through me.
I’m made of glass, but I appear not weak. I’m made of flesh and blood, yet I will never bleed. I may cry, but my tears are deathly. With every tear that whispers your name, a curse befalls you, every godforsaken time.
You made me hate you, I spite your existence. You weakened my defenses, but I’m stronger now than before. I will come back, and I will not falter. I am better than you are, and better than you, I’ll always be.
I survived. And I’m the knife. I will pierce your heart, like you pierced mine. . . You’ll feel the pain. . . And you’ll die, again, and again. . . And again.
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