Mull over the the words you let sneak out.
Discard the contents of your pockets.
Stand clothed in your “slip ups” and “mudslides” and “losses of self”
since Heaven and Hell only take souls.
It’s your armor.
Does it hurt?
Does my weight bring you down?
You made me your armor and now I can’t protect you.
I fell so far from your tree.
Time is the enemy.
The apple, descending in slow motion,
tears into the ground,
with no deadline.
you were the unforgiving sun
i was the blood-red rose slowly wilting
you were the trigger of a gun
i was the lost deer - eyes barely blinking
you were the puppeteer
i was the marionette tangled on a string
you were the chaos I hear
i was the stubborn kid left begging
you were the delusions in my head
i was the patient refusing medication
you were the temptations I was fed with
i was the sinner never seeking salvation
you were the eerie howl at dawn
i was the girl with so much desperation
you were the gloomy song
i was the mad one singing in unison
it was you who messed me up
now I am flawed as I'll ever be
this madness will never stop
until someone rescues me
“You seem a little disturbed today.”
“Oh no, just tired.”
I told another lie today.
To live in a world soley of inanimate objects, where one can never cling too tightly or talk too much in fear of it becoming the complaint of another. Everything that you left is exactly in the place that you once left it, in waiting. Nothing resents you for making it wait, for temporarily forgetting about it because you were distracted. All is how it has always been. Plush toys don’t know time, they know embraces and wet sloppy tears and whispers. They console us without uttering a word of advice, which is just a word for telling us what we already know the answer to, but wish that we did not. They listen, or let us pretend that they are listening, because sometimes we just need to pretend a little longer, to dull the pain a little longer. They do not become offended as we grip their throats and tear at their limbs and dampen their skins. They are safe, we make the choices for them.
The lion awakens; The valley is no longer at peace.
Natural order is restored, darling.
The lion is awake, the lion will prey on the lamb;
You cannot trust that an animal be personified for too long.
Hungry? Feast, indulge.
Tired, exhausted? Dwell in sleep.
Run for the sake of running.
Chase for the thrill of it.
It is a much simpler riddle,
Answers come easily.
While personified, sometimes there aren’t answers.
— The End —