Well, I'm curshed or maybe more like crashed into the wall of misery. But even though I'm shocked out of my wits, gapping for air, I still remember my promise. I will not intereven even though jelousy monster is nibbling on my insides as I write this. As a friend, I will do nothing to upset. Never, not even to make the dull pain go away.
I know I’m an idiot thinking of this
That things could be different than what they have been.
I’m ignorant, stupid, and blinded by hope
That what I imagined was not all a hoax
But as I step closer and gaze into depth
Of abyss of my masochistical brain
I will realize that I turned an addict
An addict to suffering, burning, and pain.
And if I didn’t know, I’d most likely step.
I’d fall into darkness and never look back.
But the voice in my head, that of logic and reason
Will not let me cure my full-blown obsession.
It locks up my tears with the petty of lies
Telling me that in the end things are all right
That I’ll outgrow this fed of starvation
That I wouldn’t need to sing to sad faces.
But the demon of old will not let me be.
Perhaps it was I who side-stepped in the end?
Was it I who had sealed fate of morbed reminiscence?
Was it I who had turned from the road to salvation?
All the want in the world will not answer my questions
Neither will mirrored image of sublime and you.
You will laugh as I tell you, “I’m wounded lost soldier
Of the battle I fought for the sake of my love.”
That things could be different than what they have been.
I’m ignorant, stupid, and blinded by hope
That what I imagined was not all a hoax
But as I step closer and gaze into depth
Of abyss of my masochistical brain
I will realize that I turned an addict
An addict to suffering, burning, and pain.
And if I didn’t know, I’d most likely step.
I’d fall into darkness and never look back.
But the voice in my head, that of logic and reason
Will not let me cure my full-blown obsession.
It locks up my tears with the petty of lies
Telling me that in the end things are all right
That I’ll outgrow this fed of starvation
That I wouldn’t need to sing to sad faces.
But the demon of old will not let me be.
Perhaps it was I who side-stepped in the end?
Was it I who had sealed fate of morbed reminiscence?
Was it I who had turned from the road to salvation?
All the want in the world will not answer my questions
Neither will mirrored image of sublime and you.
You will laugh as I tell you, “I’m wounded lost soldier
Of the battle I fought for the sake of my love.”