Feb 2014
I forgot to remember the memories we shared once upon a dream. The bullets of your love dropped from my life and onto the ground for another to pick up. The blade that showed my greatest regrets tore through my life again as it had before. Dripping, liquid crimson are words that were left unsaid.
The melancholy echo and recollection of your voice that was once so abundant in volume leaving my brain feeling claustrophobic in stature. A hollowed out chest waiting to be filled again with a heart so tattered or worn into pieces from careless gandering. Forsaken am I to you with no better word than "broken" to fill the answer of caring for my well being.
Unexpected twists will wriggle and writhe their way between my adolescent fingers. Remembrance, it arrives in a drop of a moment, barrelling thoughts through my head like a machine gun or a wood pecker at work. A malfunctioning, homosapien-resembling robot is what I seem to be, to myself lest no others believe it. I feel who I am, who I have become, is disastrous among all others. A cry of displeasure may or may not rest on my lips for the simple fact of me not knowing who I am anymore.
Confusion is simple to attract, why must it be so hard to lift away?
For knowing simply of one thing that I want in my life, pondering what is challenging me mentally - maybe even emotionally - is tearing me apart. Soon I'll raise the weapon of my choice for ruining a mind of memories and moments that are dearly longed to have back. A glint of light reflects into my vision, a turn of my head occurs, and then the accepting of a grim smile.
The item is retrieved into my left hand, a pulse is found in my right, and then The Silver begins delving, deeply searching, for the source of the throbbing vein. As it is found, as that artery is torn by the Paladin for those emotionally distressed. The lexemes begin to repeat themselves: Forsaken. Remembrance. Confusion. Memories.
I recall the statement of being wanted by none other than you as my eyes begin to close. What was being craved for so long could have been mine within a matter of time, but I took what they call "The Cowards Way Out." I took the way not many thought I was aware of. I broke a promise that I never truly made to anyone. Now all I hear is the quiet drip... drip... drip... of Red Remorse crowding the floor.
In regret, I say I'm sorry.
In begging, remember me.
In silence, I'm gone.
Then, the only thing left to cover the floorboards are the words that were left unsaid in that beautiful, liquid crimson.
The melancholy echo and recollection of your voice that was once so abundant in volume leaving my brain feeling claustrophobic in stature. A hollowed out chest waiting to be filled again with a heart so tattered or worn into pieces from careless gandering. Forsaken am I to you with no better word than "broken" to fill the answer of caring for my well being.
Unexpected twists will wriggle and writhe their way between my adolescent fingers. Remembrance, it arrives in a drop of a moment, barrelling thoughts through my head like a machine gun or a wood pecker at work. A malfunctioning, homosapien-resembling robot is what I seem to be, to myself lest no others believe it. I feel who I am, who I have become, is disastrous among all others. A cry of displeasure may or may not rest on my lips for the simple fact of me not knowing who I am anymore.
Confusion is simple to attract, why must it be so hard to lift away?
For knowing simply of one thing that I want in my life, pondering what is challenging me mentally - maybe even emotionally - is tearing me apart. Soon I'll raise the weapon of my choice for ruining a mind of memories and moments that are dearly longed to have back. A glint of light reflects into my vision, a turn of my head occurs, and then the accepting of a grim smile.
The item is retrieved into my left hand, a pulse is found in my right, and then The Silver begins delving, deeply searching, for the source of the throbbing vein. As it is found, as that artery is torn by the Paladin for those emotionally distressed. The lexemes begin to repeat themselves: Forsaken. Remembrance. Confusion. Memories.
I recall the statement of being wanted by none other than you as my eyes begin to close. What was being craved for so long could have been mine within a matter of time, but I took what they call "The Cowards Way Out." I took the way not many thought I was aware of. I broke a promise that I never truly made to anyone. Now all I hear is the quiet drip... drip... drip... of Red Remorse crowding the floor.
In regret, I say I'm sorry.
In begging, remember me.
In silence, I'm gone.
Then, the only thing left to cover the floorboards are the words that were left unsaid in that beautiful, liquid crimson.
