I forget to spare the last moments where you last see me, and I last see that look on your face. Where have we gone, to come so far? And yet I am able to deny everything and anything at all. As I watch more mournful pain seep from your being, I pretend indifference. I commence in withdrawl, I begin to shudder in want. Since when have I ever surpassed the oppurtunity to condelence? Since I have come across such an attitude you portray. I cannot come to terms with the un-equality of your ways. I wish you were aware of how much empathy rises inside me. How much I would tolerate to the point of torture. Soley based on the contingency of possible outcomes, that could possibly, and perpetually, effect my well-being. If there is anything left to impaire. Honestly.
How simply a moment left unsaid, as words linger in my mind- how much the time space between us digs further and further into me. Until it digs deep within the core.
That is when it signals. I cannot bare what has been bared from the beginning. I could possibly commence into what I call, 'just another thought' and completely ignore the purpose for which is in my sorrow.
I haven't known my own sorrow enough to say that it is just an emotion. Because I beg to differ with anyone who thinks so. My grief pulls at the very end of my emotions, as it screams to me how it begs to be ended. Like a suicidal adolescent with a broken chair and a snapped roped of inconvience.
What a painful procedure. To pretend the happiness in which is not given. In order to portray a moment of seemfulness towards those with wandering questions. What other option do I have, you?
Oh tell me you think you know. To come forth into the day, truimph in emotion- feelings of victory and ecetera. Only to be deprived of all conquest, and brought to my knees. All over, and over, and over again.
What other option do I have, you?
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Pain-Killer 4 Dead Angels · Wed Mar 25, 2009 @ 09:07pm · 0 Comments |