Wear the crown, while the crownless wears the world, whereas the naked stalk the prey, the prey has eaten the flesh forlorn, naked, laid barren.
Cross the words, that entangle, the various mistakes we seem to follow, the sensation of touching loneliness, while, whilst, among it all, freedom has been left adjacent to what we’ve mistakenly made as man, we have damaged as humans.
I feel the sensation of none belonging, there are no roots that seem to hold me down, where I should follow, I have no way, where I should stay, I dare not dwell, for every monster might come out, might want to stare down, might want to shake what has been laid barren, the mistakes made, by the hands that dared touch, while we stare, forgetting, fading as we hide from loneliness.
We created our own void, our own damage, our own karma.
We scrape the barrel, try to sound off in pride, decide to pay the price in mockery, whenever we look back, our past self will look back and cry, I think not as myself, my past made its own vow, instead, at the very least, to loose it all, to remain, to forgive, never to let go, what was made undone, denied and exploited, solved by mashing down, on everything that was once held.
I look at it, delusion, I feel it, I’d say I fell for it, I’d wager, I’d proclaim, in fact, I’d say nothing less, I’d just be gone, wherever I may roam.
Undecided, somethings have been left to misfortune, when will it take place, to realize?
The scepter must lay heavy, for the cloak drags down, the prince, princess, queen and kind, laid there, as buffoons, subjected to the world, slaved out to the belief they can serve the righteous and still take word, upon the world, that the free are more than awake, while the shackled drag the bones, the promise, the words, that lay the cavernous mistakes, that brought forth the shakes that imprison, majestic, the lady that stroke and draw the words, airless and motionless, the wand fell down, shivered, cracked and dusted.
Now that you can see, if you could see, what would be there to be held dear, dead like fell air, you won’t be able to hold it in, tight.
I’ll leave the last page, the last leaf, the last transcription blank.
Feel it in. Vow to it.
Cross the words, that entangle, the various mistakes we seem to follow, the sensation of touching loneliness, while, whilst, among it all, freedom has been left adjacent to what we’ve mistakenly made as man, we have damaged as humans.
I feel the sensation of none belonging, there are no roots that seem to hold me down, where I should follow, I have no way, where I should stay, I dare not dwell, for every monster might come out, might want to stare down, might want to shake what has been laid barren, the mistakes made, by the hands that dared touch, while we stare, forgetting, fading as we hide from loneliness.
We created our own void, our own damage, our own karma.
We scrape the barrel, try to sound off in pride, decide to pay the price in mockery, whenever we look back, our past self will look back and cry, I think not as myself, my past made its own vow, instead, at the very least, to loose it all, to remain, to forgive, never to let go, what was made undone, denied and exploited, solved by mashing down, on everything that was once held.
I look at it, delusion, I feel it, I’d say I fell for it, I’d wager, I’d proclaim, in fact, I’d say nothing less, I’d just be gone, wherever I may roam.
Undecided, somethings have been left to misfortune, when will it take place, to realize?
The scepter must lay heavy, for the cloak drags down, the prince, princess, queen and kind, laid there, as buffoons, subjected to the world, slaved out to the belief they can serve the righteous and still take word, upon the world, that the free are more than awake, while the shackled drag the bones, the promise, the words, that lay the cavernous mistakes, that brought forth the shakes that imprison, majestic, the lady that stroke and draw the words, airless and motionless, the wand fell down, shivered, cracked and dusted.
Now that you can see, if you could see, what would be there to be held dear, dead like fell air, you won’t be able to hold it in, tight.
I’ll leave the last page, the last leaf, the last transcription blank.
Feel it in. Vow to it.
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