Save me from the shackles from which I have been bounded since youth.
I scream for relief, for love, for sanctification.
There is no inner peace inside me. They say volcanoes lie dormant yet here I am. My thoughts run like hot blood- but what creature has hot blood? Creatures in pain, I tell you.
I scream more. There is no escape. The tips of my fingers wrap around my neck, gently touching. What implications would the scars of a last breath have on a dying society? It only takes a decade to realize we're all blind.
I can't hold it in but I cannot let it escape. I will contradict what I say in the hope it will go away.
Vanished. No, not the pain. Never the pain. Just the feeling of caring. Being heartless is rarely about pain, it's about the mental capacity to acknowledge a loss. When all your walls have been washed away you either built it up higher or die the next time. Love never dies just the idea of it does. Pain never dies just the idea of it does. Superficial gain is mandatory and yet so unnecessary. If your thoughts could manifest into desperation, they inevitable will.
I guess we'll have to wait to see what happens but I think I know.
I think you know too.
