Monday, May 7, 2012

A dour abyss...

You think you might know,
but you are proved wrong,
you think you might believe,
but your sanity is long gone.

You think you might yell,
but you stop your own self,
you think you might fall,
but you have nothing more to lose.

You think you might wallow,
but you are already rolling,
you think you might dissipate,
but you are already fragmented from within.

You think you might drown,
but you are already, in your tears,
you think you might burst,
but you have collisions every day.

You think you might swallow,
but your pain resides in you,
you think you might trip,
but you are waiting for it.

You think you might surrender,
but you still stand tall,
you think you might leave,
but you are held by something small.

You can think and think and think and think,
but you can't do a thing,
because you are stuck in a puddle of black,
where redeeming is only resulting in drowning.

And the threads will break one day,
the force will reclaim its hand,
the safety net will be reduced to tatters,
the leash will be sent back to hell.

And you will appear to have moved on,
when you think all of it has happened,
but the remnants will stay in the quick sand,
where the threads, the force, the safety net and the leash will still exist.

Living with something that will never happen,
is a hill, a grey cloud, a pain unbearable,
living without something that will never happen any more,
is a chasm, a mountain, a dormant thunderstorm, an agony.

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