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134 · Jun 2020
Back to the darkness
Andre Jun 2020
Back to the darkness again. Eye’s closed but the mind is forever awake. Soundless solitude and white noises of the mind cease to escape. Pulsing bluntness, a bellowing body filled with voices.
Strike the match of desolation and consciousness ignites.
Those walking through the darkness must never be ostracized as they carry with them a disguise.  
What are they hiding?
Why here?
Why all the hate?
Perhaps they never had someone hold them dear, after all is it not hatred that is inspired by fear?
To the little boy shedding tears to a world so cold only to self-reassure,” it will get better when I’m old”. Presenting a heart so timid with a soul so illuminating never to expect the conjecture of ideologies so aesthetic. Kid… they will only put you in a corner and call you pathetic.
To the frustrated teen, frantically spinning out of control punching and kicking the trees, head to the bark screaming. ”am I a disease?”, Jittering through the jabs and punting the pain, snort back the tears and ignite the flame. A heart burning bright never be taken by the fears of darkness it walks through
To the one walking like loner, the one that shall not be named, the burnout, the stoner. The rebel without a cause and not a single movement between his jaws. Day Floating between others but never to stay. A soul so restless with a mind so reckless and a heart never to be projected.
Your kind heart will not stay quiet forever
To the one with the sealed chest and the silver-tongued scars, the one who sees the world that astounds but never utters the past. You lay there proclaiming, bound to the grass. “I don’t need it…Ill love myself, I don’t need it from anyone else”.  Future hearts broken from the pieces of a shattered past, oppose the merciless shadows to be cast
Back to the darkness again, eyes open and mind never at rest.
Will another instance of love be put to the test?
Andre Jun 2020
Trees in the summer bake
whilst humanity awaits for a tell-tale fate.
Conceiving a "meant to be" ideology
this lack of freedom haunts me.
Summer trees burn waiting for a winter sun to turn.
Summer winds bellow as a fate entitled Autumn brings leaves across a  Rigormortis totem.
Does a maple aspire strength to be an oak? rather esquire on the sweetness within.  As without a conscience such things might never be seen

— The End —