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Description
Now I know what you must be thinking.
That the earth is locked in an ever-present lamentation,
rotating around a core composed of melancholy thoughts and dark histories.

That the only reason this world was created
was to be a spectator sport for demons
to be used, manipulated, tricked, laughed at, abused.
When you find yourself somewhere unlike anywhere you've ever been before,
The people treat you kindly, but the sting of not belonging lodges deep in your heart

And that unease slowly decomposes you from the inside out.
You never knew there could be such great power
Held by such a small convictive doubt

So much so,
You just want it to end.

And return to your land of belonging
Where you can extend your hand to shake a strangers', and feel the nostalgic hum of the home run in your veins, warming your body from the roots of the hair to the tips of the toes

Here there is no friendly vibrancy

There is only emptiness, you can feel it resonating in the oxygen every time you admit a ticket for it to travel down the subway to your lungs

There is a chill it leaves behind.
It speaks of loneliness and pain,
and whispers of the immense burdens you will be forced to bear.
All on your own.

The voice becomes a chant, constantly bearing down on your sweet naive conscience
that has been telling you to stay strong.
That the road is almost at its end.
That books must not be judged by their covers.

But the voice says to you,
that a book can certainly be judged by a summary typed across the inside of it.
This is one volume too many, the mind was not built to withstand this truth engraved into such a hideous lie

All you wanted was someone who cared.
Cared enough to bandage the wounds of your spirit,
and hold out their hand to you.
To ask you to cry for help,
just so that they could answer the echoing call themselves.
And tell you beautifully how you deserve such concern,
though you view yourself as a soulless maggot, deserving of no grace.
To take your leaden form and heal the scars you've been left to wear,
returning the spirit to the body and celebrating the reunition by your side.

The gorgeous dream mocks your conception of love.
That word you faintly heard so long ago, but had been led to forget the meaning of it through the ages
This loveless nightmare is intoxicating you, seeping into your blood, driving you down a road you do not wish to follow.

You accept that it will never end.
Say it again.
It is eternal.
Again.
It is my curse.
Again.
I am trapped in this abyss.
Again.

"Again" consumes you.
It twists your aura of character into a burned, shriveled flower
Once beautiful as it grew in a field of fertile soil
But moved to a desert by an evil force,
Unable to grasp those roots in the sand.
Lovely blossoms cannot bloom on sun alone.
The heat will mar you. Eat you.
And kill you.

Demons sigh as they search for new victims.
"Too bad, that one went so well while it lasted."
They laugh darkly.

Description
Now I know what you must be thinking.
That the earth is locked in an ever-present lamentation,
rotating around a core composed of melancholy thoughts and dark histories.

That the only reason this world was created
was to be a spectator sport for demons
to be used, manipulated, tricked, laughed at, abused.
When you find yourself somewhere unlike anywhere you've ever been before,
The people treat you kindly, but the sting of not belonging lodges deep in your heart

And that unease slowly decomposes you from the inside out.
You never knew there could be such great power
Held by such a small convictive doubt

So much so,
You just want it to end.

And return to your land of belonging
Where you can extend your hand to shake a strangers', and feel the nostalgic hum of the home run in your veins, warming your body from the roots of the hair to the tips of the toes

Here there is no friendly vibrancy

There is only emptiness, you can feel it resonating in the oxygen every time you admit a ticket for it to travel down the subway to your lungs

There is a chill it leaves behind.
It speaks of loneliness and pain,
and whispers of the immense burdens you will be forced to bear.
All on your own.

The voice becomes a chant, constantly bearing down on your sweet naive conscience
that has been telling you to stay strong.
That the road is almost at its end.
That books must not be judged by their covers.

But the voice says to you,
that a book can certainly be judged by a summary typed across the inside of it.
This is one volume too many, the mind was not built to withstand this truth engraved into such a hideous lie

All you wanted was someone who cared.
Cared enough to bandage the wounds of your spirit,
and hold out their hand to you.
To ask you to cry for help,
just so that they could answer the echoing call themselves.
And tell you beautifully how you deserve such concern,
though you view yourself as a soulless maggot, deserving of no grace.
To take your leaden form and heal the scars you've been left to wear,
returning the spirit to the body and celebrating the reunition by your side.

The gorgeous dream mocks your conception of love.
That word you faintly heard so long ago, but had been led to forget the meaning of it through the ages
This loveless nightmare is intoxicating you, seeping into your blood, driving you down a road you do not wish to follow.

You accept that it will never end.
Say it again.
It is eternal.
Again.
It is my curse.
Again.
I am trapped in this abyss.
Again.

"Again" consumes you.
It twists your aura of character into a burned, shriveled flower
Once beautiful as it grew in a field of fertile soil
But moved to a desert by an evil force,
Unable to grasp those roots in the sand.
Lovely blossoms cannot bloom on sun alone.
The heat will mar you. Eat you.
And kill you.

Demons sigh as they search for new victims.
"Too bad, that one went so well while it lasted."
They laugh darkly.