Why do I choose to suffer my freedom?
Is it familiarity? A self-created religion?
I bind myself, to myself, using my own hands.
I struggle to look through my own fingers.
Is it because I can't see? Am I in a dream?
Where is the edge? Where is the seam?
I pretend to be distressed and myself believe
Its all I've ever known, the stories of someone.
I carry on, holding tight, writing more lies
A twisted ******* an inversion of life.
I catch glimpses of release, the gaps in my hands
Yet as soon as I forget, I go back in.
How can you fight something you've created?
How destroy the already annihilated?
Nothing but questions, answers are worthless.
Nothing makes sense, not even these verses.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
Why do I choose to suffer my freedom?
Is it familiarity? A self-created religion?
I bind myself, to myself, using my own hands.
I struggle to look through my own fingers.
Is it because I can't see? Am I in a dream?
Where is the edge? Where is the seam?
I pretend to be distressed and myself believe
Its all I've ever known, the stories of someone.
I carry on, holding tight, writing more lies
A twisted ******* an inversion of life.
I catch glimpses of release, the gaps in my hands
Yet as soon as I forget, I go back in.
How can you fight something you've created?
How destroy the already annihilated?
Nothing but questions, answers are worthless.
Nothing makes sense, not even these verses.
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