to scald the peel off my hand
to burn the coat of ear in order to peer underneath
a cleaner oversight in a ill men's attempt at order
finding confort in settling in calling it over.
the vision of the future a sickening shade of grey
blops of ink still wet mark the meltdown,
a fate left behind.
blessed this anguish we take stake,
a dark embrace warm felt
coated in loneliness and hallow scales
measured by actions well intended meant for disgrace
a tragedy in the making molded us in (shared) space once.
dream bigger sister: be all at once, brave, bold, kinder (for)
us united upon a star,
wouldn't it be brilliant?
but fantasies do not feed the fire,
hell is aplenty with sinners with good intentions
and on both accounts we are guilty
dispute not, waste no penny on the fountain of wishes
for the boatman demands his charge just as well.
on this lookout, the broken mirror reflects a difference
not a missing piece, merely how it was meant to be
an incompatible tear make us stubbornly similar true
alas, the mold does not fit. isn't it just typical:
born to be thrown into the lions,
a stepping stone
humans are no kinder to the ants than gods are to to their brothers,
and me, I am the god of my own personal hell.
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário