Man I loved being abused And I think you did too Kinda wish it wasn't over Please come back my four leaf clover Maybe it's no self respect My problem is that I easily forget You and I are the same in that And I think you also want to come back I think the abuse was love A traumatized version from above Neither of us could admit it So we kinda had to split it As Kanye says run away There's nothing left for us to say Except that u can always come back But remember we'll both be under attack
My brothers, I have yet to find the empty room you wanted.
I sit in this chair, leaving my mind on a ride through the tunnels of imagination, and my heart through the cavity of life.
The plateau has displayed its ideas, and I seem to find it too intriguing to pass up.
It may seem like a joke, but the bark of the tree is tasting good now, and the sun is melting my ice cream for a cycle of joy.
Far beyond, in the jungle, I wish to sort, and through the buildings of New York, I find the same chaos of unnamed mindfulness, and disdain for the one thing that powers our motivation.
My brothers, I find joy to be deceptive. I find space to be limited. Its ideas have not proven true.
Good things must end. And so, I breathe a power of lies, and the energy from the wall powers its only purpose.
For awhile, I earned the demonstration for goodness, and at that time it was nice.
But there's more that I refuse to accept. Maybe one day I will understand just what it means to lose.
For now, I look at all of you beautiful people with cherishment in my eyes about the days that once were.
I look to solve the embarrassment in my soul. In the far corner of the stars, a once beautiful life has taken a new form of entropy.
I wish to find infinity, and I wish to exploit my mouth for positivity.
However, there will be the day which it ceases to be, and hopefully, before then, I won't try so hard to stop it.
Comments
Post a Comment