And it’s ugly .
All things are ugly in the end ,
Do some harbour the capacity of only seeing the good ?
The ugly is all I see in the end .
The links that tie us are so beautiful yet so raw ,
Drowned in a color that is ours but also everyones
The links that tie us are of a deep red ,
running in our veins in a way that’s so coarse
I wonder if we’re the only ones .
The beauty we basked in before the storm removed its light ,
Still lingers in that beautiful soul of ours .
But it has been sullied , beaten and rendered useless
By love itself , by the adoration , trust itself .
Love : what a destructive thing ,
No matter the nature , it’s way of functioning seems to be a never wavering scheme
One that is the most fulfilling sight you’ll ever lay your eyes upon ,
Before every crevice of the thing you once adored turns into to ash and bone
Its so fascinating , is it not ?
The way we tumble and fall , but still lift ourselves up
The way we get a little bit uglier , a little more lost
At every twist and turn , we lose something that we were made of
And I’ve lost , lost so much in you .
May I reach for your heart , rip it from your chest to allow myself to feel full again ?
Or maybe -and only if you let me- would you let me retrieve my books from your shelves ,
I know you read them , understood them and bare with me , annotated them but they are mine ,
May I have them back ?
It’s in no way that I wish to taint you furthermore with my obligations and needs ,
But the things I used to give -and willingly so- are now missing me
Or I miss them , that besides the point ,
With them in your hands I fail to feel whole ,
So let me dissect your brain , to figure which part of every memory belonged to me
To attempt to seek and find the things that now make you 'you' , that actually stem from me .
I’m sorry , or probably not all , I don’t seem to a give a single thought about you being empty
I just need the love you stole from me
This is a another classic instance of **** or be killed ,
In a way this for my survival , and thus I must ****
You , it all seems to begin with you .
All the things that hurt me , simply make you stronger
Cause I didn’t steal from you
And my heart weighs heavier than you on the balance of honesty
Apr 13, 2025
Apr 13, 2025 at 7:20 PM UTC
And it’s ugly .
All things are ugly in the end ,
Do some harbour the capacity of only seeing the good ?
The ugly is all I see in the end .
The links that tie us are so beautiful yet so raw ,
Drowned in a color that is ours but also everyones
The links that tie us are of a deep red ,
running in our veins in a way that’s so coarse
I wonder if we’re the only ones .
The beauty we basked in before the storm removed its light ,
Still lingers in that beautiful soul of ours .
But it has been sullied , beaten and rendered useless
By love itself , by the adoration , trust itself .
Love : what a destructive thing ,
No matter the nature , it’s way of functioning seems to be a never wavering scheme
One that is the most fulfilling sight you’ll ever lay your eyes upon ,
Before every crevice of the thing you once adored turns into to ash and bone
Its so fascinating , is it not ?
The way we tumble and fall , but still lift ourselves up
The way we get a little bit uglier , a little more lost
At every twist and turn , we lose something that we were made of
And I’ve lost , lost so much in you .
May I reach for your heart , rip it from your chest to allow myself to feel full again ?
Or maybe -and only if you let me- would you let me retrieve my books from your shelves ,
I know you read them , understood them and bare with me , annotated them but they are mine ,
May I have them back ?
It’s in no way that I wish to taint you furthermore with my obligations and needs ,
But the things I used to give -and willingly so- are now missing me
Or I miss them , that besides the point ,
With them in your hands I fail to feel whole ,
So let me dissect your brain , to figure which part of every memory belonged to me
To attempt to seek and find the things that now make you 'you' , that actually stem from me .
I’m sorry , or probably not all , I don’t seem to a give a single thought about you being empty
I just need the love you stole from me
This is a another classic instance of **** or be killed ,
In a way this for my survival , and thus I must ****
You , it all seems to begin with you .
All the things that hurt me , simply make you stronger
Cause I didn’t steal from you
And my heart weighs heavier than you on the balance of honesty
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