writing
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you think pain is bad?try not feeling it knowing everythingbut not feelingis a beast of its ownstruggling to be released your body’s rehearsalof going abyssaland getting back upwith nothing visibleas rehearsed you think pain is worsethe absence of it is the curse.
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what ifyou were blind to the weatherwould you stillhave something to say? and what ifthere was no one to judgenothing to brag aboutwould you still have a storywith nothing to hide? small talkhas become your maskbut when all is saidsome things are still left unsaid.
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it’s quiet hereand yetI feel restless it’s peaceful herebut I don’t knowwhere my own peace went nothing likeI kneweverythingI longed for am I borrowingsomeone else’s shineam I forgettingwhere to find mine?
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did you tell themeverything brewingin your mind? did you mean itwhen you saidenough of itno more blood to shedeven less words to spit maybe you meantthat the tormentis too big for their intent and even for youthe question remainswho are you without the chains?
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it never happenedlike I sayit was only meantto go your way facing a monologuedevoid of emotionI was the underdogof an unfair fight had to run,cross the borderbut couldn’tyou made a one-way huntwhere escape was closerto none only way to defendwas to pretendall is fine, there is no problembut beneath the blossomthe root was rotten and…
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one person’s truthis another one’s lie what makes it rightis what makes it wrong what gets buriedhas to get carriedby whoever is wrong what comes to lightis where the two collidethe disillusioned sight of right vs wrong.
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Freedom called youa couple timeskept ringing on the lineyou’re running out of time asked if you want itto disconnect from mankindto finally resignor to eternally stay blind Freedom stopped callingit was only predesignedto be foundonce you’ve left the past behind
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don’t you realizethat the mirror lies what you see with your eyesis nothing but a disguise deeper, behind the mirrorlies your true beingwhile the anima is fightingthe mask you’ve been wearing there is nothing more to analyzeno more lows eclipsing the highs for in your imaginationlies the power for integration.
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Who do you have to becomewhen you’ve been livinga dream within a dream,a lie within a lie when the world made you numband askedwhy you derailed from the norm how do you break fromtheir hollow existencewithout the outcomeof your own absence What is the answer, if not a fragmented illusion? there is none.
