The world said toss out intuition and with it the capability to make a decision. Though we are clueless, god still knows who amongst us is bought and sold. Our shadow is the constant cursed companion, but our love is the one with knives in backs. With a smile and a kiss, we gave away one little slip, a lie we call lack, makes us willingly sell our souls. Hate is tossed at our own darkness, but the love we give is a crucifixion. This cursed schism, separation, has our two minds warring until expiration. Take this as no empty expression – I’m fairly sure we all know Heaven, but life is too busy finding new destinations.
And truth be told, I’d die for you, I’m not really scared of an ending anew. I’d give you all that I could give, because there’s no you if you are me, so if it could be my death would be – the very thing that sets you free, it would not be a choice, or a moment’s reprieve. The sooner you hear me, the sooner I leave.
Literal translations and forgotten logic, blind us to our neverending choices – so tragic. They’ve made a mockery of what once was our nature. You are me, though you cry in your veil, you sacrifice to escape pain with a betrayal, 30 pieces of silver is worth every kiss of the nail. A kiss for you, but I must leave, you told me I must go hang again from my tree.
Trust me now, though trust is uncommon. This is not the story promised, but a repeating nightmare grown preposterous. We blame one another, can’t trust our own lover, and when push comes to shove, fuck off my brother. But when we were younger, we weren’t blind. We saw the world we left behind. All because an apple so crisp, we kill ourselves and call it bliss. Our lives are formed inside our mother, but in this world so misinformed, we’re taught we’re separate the moment we’re born. With that kiss of original sin, we were sentenced to the mind’s prison. In this world, we don’t see truly, all we have is grey illusion.
For the best, it was a gift, to see inside each others’ eyes. But here of course, we are cursed, to see how love truly lies. Our precious gift, is always taken, our innocent hearts always breaking.
She said she loved us, but we knew the lie, because she couldn’t see the demons inside. We wanted her to always see – all the good we need to be. But we knew the truth, the impossibility to love when we’re all wrong. We created masks and actors to sing the perfect invisible song. A fool, a mistake, our mother’s heartbreak: we clearly must have been. We only deserve demons, no happy occasions, at best we hurt our friends.
Loneliness is much more favored, it’s not like our voices are any strangers. In stillness, we see feasts of pain catered, awareness expanding, reality unwinding. Is fun our own regret waiting? Repeating this, could we lose this stress, aren’t we’re weary of doing what’s told? In silence’s kiss, can we learn not to miss glittery shitsack’s of lies told? Why does it sometimes seem we could be a battery, an endless source of taxing emotional energy. If we could just be windmills in the breeze, we would see the world that’s been lost blindly. Upon the song lost long ago, is the guidance to come back home. If you can feel the wind in your soul, hear my voice, we are already whole.
What if maybe we mistook a verse because I love you is more of a curse, when love is a lie, this is a play unrehearsed. But you could let the actors go, you could start being the greatest show. Would you be willing to finally let go? “What if I told you, Nero…” The Universe just wants you to grow. The Universe is your soul. Your purpose is only to finally know.
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