Just a happy mistake huh.
Just a mishap of something I can't control?
Or is it even a mishap at all my dear,
Is what I pay such a negative toll?
Do I pay for my emotions?
Pay for my complete command?
Or is it something else.
Something in which I actually had a hand.
See I think this process was mine.
This burden is mine to bear.
Because one can only run so long
Before he forgets, and his past becomes thin air.
No, this was my doing.
I'm convinced of that much for sure.
Over time it always gets easier.
Easier and easier to blur
The lines I walk in, color between, and live by.
My life is my own creation
Is it true what you said?
Could this honestly be my salvation?
This separation of mind and body.
Soul and flesh ripped apart.
Or was it more graceful and intentional,
A precision cut above my heart.
See my body bears no scars,
No music bars for clefts of my past.
But my mind is white with the memories.
It's hardened, and these scars are the ones that last.
It was my own doing indeed.
That much I'll admit.
I dragged the knife across my thoughts.
Again and again, I made them fit.
Fit my desires and my ability,
Fit my tolerance for pain.
But how can one expect an end to suffering,
When pain is the vehicle of gain?
No, my knife is bloodied.
Used far more than you'll ever know.
I dragged my knife across my emotions.
So now, they simply never show.
It only takes one scar to begin a collection.
One cut to begin an addiction.
One taste to begin the obsession.
And one life to maintain the pure fiction.
That to overcome pain, one must accept it.
To defeat pain, one must welcome it.
I have overcome my pain my friend.
And with it, the rest of it.
The rest is gone too.
Oh, sweet, sweet irony.
A happy mistake indeed my dear.
The happy mistake is trusting me.
Sometimes my metaphors feel all too real...
