Ignite the flame off ignorance,
and let the pleasure grow.
Dig up graves of one's you've lost
refuse to let it go.
Be a victim to yourself
a victim to demands.
Wait for someone to come through
who'll help you wash your hands.
If you choose to live this way,
you'll suffer so much scorn.
See what is before your eyes
before you're dead and torn.
Fires they are burning
and you see much blood is lost.
Screaming out in agony
you see your actions cost.
There were things so evident
but you tried to resist.
Mystery and consequence
would then come to exist.
Remember times you lived within
serenity's disguise.
Remember what it felt like
when she looked into your eyes.
Maybe love between you both
was nothing more than fiction.
What brought you together
in the first place was addiction.
Selling off your soul and life
for free upon the shelf.
How could you love someone else?
you didn't love yourself.
Hypocrite you loved to flaunt
those tasteful words around.
Telling her to live her life
you had already drowned.
Author notes
A sort of conscience to self conversation. A deep, brutal analysis.
Share with me your interpetations.
Comments
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Definitely a brutal analysis... you've been anyalizing this entire thing often these days through your writing, but I think that sometimes that is the best way to truly understand any situation. Good Write!
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Perhaps I've been analyzing the damn thing far too much, and far too long. It's interesting how the series formed. I just sat down, and part 1 started to come out. I knew that it was a poem that desired more time, so I made more. I'd like to think this is probably to a certain degree, how I really feel inside.
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