a book, broken open, baring bloodied words which walk the page, spreading venom, voicing and melting, sinking my skin....with bleeding eyes causing a blind, I blend its meaning...with mine....
this burden of thought, which has brought me here....tears, peels, and penetrates, the weakness of my own pace, in life, lost, lonely and abound with emptiness....bent beliefs bow with the wind....failing to feel wisdom in life...
simple, same, sunken, and claim....
ideas, and feelings...forging paths, with no pass, an end, booked beyond, condensed below...
we flow, with watermark...which moves us along....page to page...however, this stains stationary, similar to how the lesser-thans will to remain...there is always a script...scribing to us...but often, we lose grip....
in the absence of fear, we can steer, from victim to sailing vessel...
this burden of thought, which has brought me here....tears, peels, and penetrates, the weakness of my own pace, in life, lost, lonely and abound with emptiness....bent beliefs bow with the wind....failing to feel wisdom in life...
simple, same, sunken, and claim....
ideas, and feelings...forging paths, with no pass, an end, booked beyond, condensed below...
we flow, with watermark...which moves us along....page to page...however, this stains stationary, similar to how the lesser-thans will to remain...there is always a script...scribing to us...but often, we lose grip....
in the absence of fear, we can steer, from victim to sailing vessel...
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