(no subject)
In a dimly lit room is where i keep my soul. Locked away from sound and sight never to be wronged again. again gives notion to a past event. what event? or events? Tragedy and plain poor luck plague the vastness of my oceans. A bitter smile to warp the minds of sick sadictic fucks who find reasons and motives to attack my aching battle wounded unparalleled existence. Those bastards. They know the truth behind the lies, shedding darkness in my light. Finding only reasons to fight, i turn myself against the brightness of parting lips, curving further into nothing, and forever. Poem. Words. Truth? Exaggeration? I find nothing left to save, nothing in these ruins to salvage. Only antique figurines find their way to my pocket. With one pat, i know they're there. With one pat I know you're here.