Hope leaves me on uncertain ground
Wretched hope, it burns through my mind,
A disease which promises and lies
What would she like
what would he like
what can I do
A disease that rips through the self
leaving aching and inflamed
I want it to end, I want it’s fruition.
Can the part of me that was asleep, lulled by years of sorrow
sleep again or will it die.
Sleep or death this is what life has taught me,
The fragility of hope
Can I rip away the masks and lay bare my desires
When the masks have sheltered me for so long that it’s hard to differentiate between the mask and the self.
The Shaman, the poet, the cynic, the bastard
All pieces and all lies
or is one the truth and the other just half closed doors leaking traits
I’m lost in the overthinking overfeeling and can’t seem to find my way home.
