SerDave4114

Watching an ant making his way, clearly without a clue where he is, across my textbook, has never been so symbolic. I wonder if he is as lost as I am. The tick of the clock echoes through my ears as if it is the only existing sound. My eyes wander through a land filled with words, sentences, and paragraphs I have no intention of making any value of. Phrases come and go like it is exhaled by a smoker. I decide to close my textbook, the land suddenly being crushed by a force unimaginable. The ant barely escapes. I feel the urge to call it a night but it is only half-past nine. It’s not like I’m doing anything of value anyway. I̵

If life is a small journey. He has journeyed, in search of something or nothing at all, through deserts of hope, through seas of isolation, and mountains of despair. Feeling his last breath, all those journeys seem to mean nothing to him. Just like his life: a life without a purpose... For he has made no marks upon those he has set foot on.   Or perhaps he didn't know how.

 I have never known such feelings would have existed where none has ever been expected.

What I have done can't be forgiven nor forgotten. I am only the pain and misery I have brought her. When the fires are out, the dust and embers of pain shall be blown away leaving only the tears of guilt. It is all a matter of Fate, alas.  

After all, I'm just another incompetent human being who has contributed nothing, trying just to breathe the same air as others.

O, how I was deceived For the sake of the suns For the moonlit skies One summer One merciless stormy night   - O, how I was deceived By my own self By the shallow bloods beneath my heart Had I looked into the soul Had I found the pain that grows - O, how I was betrayed For the sake of the stars For the empty skies One winter One silent subtle night - O, how I was betrayed By he who abandons By the flames that boils my shallow frozen bloods And my eyes are opened   And I feel the pain has grown - Inside a bag of flesh and bone, none has ever known Like the plague, I am fleeing my soul….

So how did I end up on the wrong side of love ?  

If everything has a reason. Can you explain why am I wasting my last drop of imagination?

I may be cold. On the outside. But you'll never know. What's hidden inside. I am cruel. In your eyes. Of course it's true You may be. Wounded to the core. To the point of. Loving me no more. I don't wish. Forgiveness. For it's a cycle. Back towards sadness. And when it ends. I need make no amends. Make me embrace forgetfulness. For my soul. Is plagued with selfishness. Of all the wounds. I inflict upon you.   Can only be used. To kill me true.

There is a queer sort of wonder in misery, as there is pleasure in pain and excitement in fear.