'Tis symbolical, the sacred art of this leading moment.
The vision in which we thought was it, knew not the polarity of love.
It is shaped with malice, and echos with grotesque comedy that takes residence in the mind.
I did not remove the metaphor that conceals the eye, I wore it for every season in blasphemy of what we said.
I nurtured a lie, in hopes to mend.
I accused the plebeian, to take away from myself.
I jumped at the sight of your tongue with deaf ears.
My body consumed itself because I sought to deflect reality.
When thoust release a breath, I ponder how much has been stolen.
But our rites bond us, and my perseverance.
It takes me to the nights,
when no calamity arises on the minute and the space between us closes in, and we both know the words of comfort are being muttered in cowardice.
We compromise in silence, and fester Eris.
I am whisked away by my settlement, and defined by my trade.
Dearest love,
I hate you to know you.
Dearest hate,
I adore you in depletion.
Take my voice,
And my pride.
Because you have stolen a "me" to compensate.
Grew with me to forget.
Understood me, to only misunderstand.
And released me when I was latched onto your hip.
Say to me,
We're trying.
Say to me,
I feel it too.
Say to me,
All that was broiling.
And I will offer council or I will let you go with the same hand you bore and shame myself in all that could of been.
