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Laying yourself bare. Letting every trickle of blood and sweat lie there. Fucking hell, I didn’t choose this realm, but there’s people in my ear, whispering that I did choose. I knelt and gave them four years of my foul purchase. I cried as they became the sole purpose. Cold wind drifts through my lungs, becoming me to smile along. “It must be done, it must be done.” But what of love? Is my passion naught but dust or ink, waiting in a sink, to be washed away by simple tap? “Reject,” they rasp. They must’ve nodded along.
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Half of my conscious life. I hope they used half of their third eye, so they wouldn’t see all the half lies. Barren cold hidden by spring birds. Dead trees that too deserve… the other word. The other simple word.
It’s everything I have and yet the world is still big and flat.
