So just what the fuck do you do when the carrot of fate is dangling deliciously in front of your big, dumb eyes, and the bastard holding it is leading you down his very own fucked up path of self-delusion & denial...? Who do you turn to when his identical scar is staring back at you every time you look in the mirror, with a twisted smile knowing exactly where you're headed, knowing you had all the choices he never had, and you may still have to make them the same damned way...?
The excuses are done piling up, the blood is flowing from the cup and I just don't give a damn anymore. An ellipsis dangling from a cliff, a frightened boy shouting 'what' and 'if', with no more knowledge than he had before.
But there is that one precious gem, isn't there? That one last motherfucker climbing into your head right before you enter unconscious bliss, letting you know that it's never going to be okay, that all the retroactive care in the world will never equal being a product of pure desire. I, the insomniac tragic protagonist, doomed to almost a quarter century of shitty sleep without 1 pleasant fucking dream ever, and this is what I get to know before the nightmares begin?
So sickened, depleated, the sins are repeated. At every turn, the son is defeated.
I wish I were at some kind of precipice, that this was some time for a turnaround, a moment of clarity.
So I care not for my image within your perception; what truth shall I find when defined by deception?
I'm done with saving you, a gift unto myself. A tired savior, a wasted favor, and I'm lucky I'm alive...*
My pain, my pride... These scars are mine**. SEVAS TRA!
*Pantera, "Living Through Me (Hell's Wrath)" The Great Southern Trendkill, 1996
**Otep, "Nein" House of Secrets, 2004
No comments:
Post a Comment