May 2012
From beyond the darkness, brilliance shines through. In times of turmoil, a blazing fire ensues.
Against God’s will the fight grows stronger, until his light shines down on him. The greatest of mysteries this man lives, all the time just behind the curtain a cold world has put up in front of him. A shadow still moving, he is brushed aside, and when the light goes out there remains an invisible figure no one can see. An ever so lonely tide rolls overs him. Heavy waves of remorse and self-hate crush a body made feeble by sharp words others throw through his soul.
There he stands with arms spread in loving embrace as the pain engulfs each fiber that is his being. How can anyone pursue a life torn to shreds by other and places in to the fire by their own hand? Absently resting his skin against the blazing coals, scars laying proof to habitual abuse. Yet still he stands his ground, unchanged and unmoved. Seemingly content in a dark world surrounded by happiness he has alienated himself from.
This small black-hole of sorrow is his heaven. Empty inside, no matter the amount of poison dumped in to it. The replacement to a missing piece belonging in his heart, never will it truly be whole again. An insurmountable torment for any single person to bare day in and day out, let alone to embrace with open arms as a mother would their newborn infant.
Ask. Ask the one question. The single word. Why? An honest question he even ponders at times. What if it is because of lovers past, an open heart that once was whole but broken by someone so beautiful it hid the monster inside? Or could it be, as strange a theory as it may sound, that he is this world’s sponge. Wondering through a world tainted by the evil humans are cursed with, to take away the pain that smears the clouds to obscure the sun. What if. A saint of subtle sorts who travels in the shadows others create and wipes away the tears rolling off every beautiful persons’ cheek.
How absurd each of those sound. Pathetic is the first and self-appointed righteous man made by the second. Fittingly, a man on the brink. Living on the edge screaming empty threats in desperation for attention. Child-like attempts to create self-indulged happiness, lasting mere moments with an after-taste of bitter betrayal for those who fall victim to the boy crying wolf.
Against God’s will the fight grows stronger, until his light shines down on him. The greatest of mysteries this man lives, all the time just behind the curtain a cold world has put up in front of him. A shadow still moving, he is brushed aside, and when the light goes out there remains an invisible figure no one can see. An ever so lonely tide rolls overs him. Heavy waves of remorse and self-hate crush a body made feeble by sharp words others throw through his soul.
There he stands with arms spread in loving embrace as the pain engulfs each fiber that is his being. How can anyone pursue a life torn to shreds by other and places in to the fire by their own hand? Absently resting his skin against the blazing coals, scars laying proof to habitual abuse. Yet still he stands his ground, unchanged and unmoved. Seemingly content in a dark world surrounded by happiness he has alienated himself from.
This small black-hole of sorrow is his heaven. Empty inside, no matter the amount of poison dumped in to it. The replacement to a missing piece belonging in his heart, never will it truly be whole again. An insurmountable torment for any single person to bare day in and day out, let alone to embrace with open arms as a mother would their newborn infant.
Ask. Ask the one question. The single word. Why? An honest question he even ponders at times. What if it is because of lovers past, an open heart that once was whole but broken by someone so beautiful it hid the monster inside? Or could it be, as strange a theory as it may sound, that he is this world’s sponge. Wondering through a world tainted by the evil humans are cursed with, to take away the pain that smears the clouds to obscure the sun. What if. A saint of subtle sorts who travels in the shadows others create and wipes away the tears rolling off every beautiful persons’ cheek.
How absurd each of those sound. Pathetic is the first and self-appointed righteous man made by the second. Fittingly, a man on the brink. Living on the edge screaming empty threats in desperation for attention. Child-like attempts to create self-indulged happiness, lasting mere moments with an after-taste of bitter betrayal for those who fall victim to the boy crying wolf.
