I feel like i have ran out of control.
I feel like i'm in the backseat of a car
that's dragging me to hell.
I am blindfolded while feeling the warmth
of hell fire.
I am blinded from the true form of evil.
Blinded from the actual concept of hell.
I've lost all self control.
But found a home in the process.
It's dark in the wild searching
For my inner child
As i lay my sins down
Onto the ground
I'm trying to run
But i can't help still holding on
To the thread
And the voice driving me to insanity
That only lives inside my head.
That one day
The day that you were there but gone at the same time
The day where i thought you would still be here in my tomorrow
as how you were in a my yesterday.
Now your not my yesterday and you're not my tomorrows
your not under, but in a way beneath.
You're beneath my thoughts. Under my every surface.
In my head but not to be infront of my eyes.
How can someone or something so special
turn into something thats beneath a thought.
Something so far from a surface but
still be considered the surface of everything
You are the deeper surface underneath all the layers that i don't have to hide.
Always beneath my mind.
Maybe i'll make you
a love potion
Made of cyanide.
Just so you know what it feels like
To truly be dying inside.
If this is sugar
Then it's not so sweet.
If this is blood well
Honey, it's not that deep.
It was like the air was becoming
too cold to breathe.
I felt my chest caving in on itself.
I pulled over just to see what it would feel like.
To stand there all alone.
But then the thought of you creeps in.
And suddenly the moon disappeared.
Like it was pulled right from under me
At the same time it was above me.
The moon, it was you.
You were there and then you were not.
It wasn't a dream.
This is what dying feels like.
What it means to knife and be knifed
by the one you love.
Oh God what have we become.
We all need to learn
how to love on our own,
you made me hate being alone.
It was like she was getting pushed
Her body feeling like it had completely
Yet she felt her stomach turn and her heart
beating out her chest.
But when she felt it was over it was clear her body
lost it's way to her dress.
She thought to herself how could such a beautiful dress
have been so easily ripped apart at the seams.
And grappled at the thought that it would now
only appear in her most nightmarish of dreams.
There's terrors in this
dark room we call home,
but when we turn on the lights
we're just two people looking
fun house mirrors.
It's a reality created by imagination.
When we want to hide because we feel lost
yet when we don't feel the need to be found.
We enter make believe.
We imagine a place where we're surrounded by no worries at all.
Or where our worries begin to seem insufficient
with our desperate attempts to escape our non imaginative tuition.
Therefore it's all make believe.
— The End —