Pins.
Needles.
Knives.
Shadows.
They know my name.
They seek my fame.
stop
My Temple plays unwitting host
To the horrid displays they love to *****.
I don’t think I can bear to know what’s wrong
With me.
Stop.
I don’t think I can bear to know what’s strong or weak.
Weak?
Weakness?
Weakness.
Frailty.
It all comes down to the end.
It spins,
It slides,
It taunts,
Stop!
Maybe if I spin again my own weaved web to comprehend,
Then maybe I can fix this flux that burns down my will to trust.
STOP!
Or maybe I can fly again or jump to the sun;
An Icarus end.
STOP!!
die.
I SAID STOP!!!
I’m broken this time, you can bet.
It’s what I get for casting light on my silhouette,
When I wasn’t ready yet.