Dear you,
It was at the time that the clock struck midnight
that i scurried across my mind to wake the chambers
that lay dormant in my head
the screeches, the whispers,
the enticing words that seemed to forever quench my thirst
Were they really here to hurt me?
Or perhaps, they were here to show me something; to tell me everything
to reveal to me their wisdom, after being hurt and cast aside
Like the nothingness in a barrel of empty remains
Could they be trusted?
Should i allow their thoughts to dwindle, or flourish to the point that all can be seen by others?
Or perhaps, i may keep such a thing in the middle; letting them grow; but only for myself to see
Like a flower, trapped in the brisk tantalization of freedom
Do you know?
Do we all know?
The truth that has progressed throughout our hearts since the dawn of our time;
attempting to quench our thirst, but cast aside due to the torments that plague us from within
Is there a way to fight it, and yet still have it?
To revel in what remains of our lineage;
what remains of us
Truth be told, we do not seek freedom;
we seek to be told that we have such a thing,
only to never use it, because we cannot throw away what was given to us since the beginning
Flower; I commend you for living, where i have not
I am merely a thought that travels onward;
seeking shelter in the minds of man,
only to be shunned; no matter my state of shock, temptation, or wisdom that i try to express
i ask that you read these words again,
and never forget that i once existed, in you
sincerely, your passing thought; that hopes to bloom again
