Chosen Path
It's a cold clear night, where
raindrops form frozen patterns to
glorify the dark in a flush of victory
Or maybe summer reigns, shining too bright,
too long, blinding conscience with a
myriad of colourful particles
But he can't see , can't feel
all he knows is this blistering cold,
infesting his environment from his own heart
driving him to insanity and he runs and
runs, along his chosen path
implemented on his way
He looks to the right, hoping to see
a gorge to climb down to hell
but he realises he can't fall deeper
a serenade of waisted years chants its
monotonuous rythm in his head but
he can't make the voices stop
On the left he sees a desolate landscape
inviting him to dwell
A lonely vulture paints a lonesome dance
in the sky but it's his best company
He looks forward where the light has faded
But even that is more comfort than looking back
Knowing everything's gone he burnt all bridges anyway
but the fire was too heavy and destroyed it all
except himself because he's too much of a coward so he fled
the flames to stop dealing with the past
while he can't end the future
The trip continues on and on
the rations of forgiveness becoming smaller and
the doubt growing to some unknown inhumane proportions
the consciousness that the world wasn't wrong is consuming him
He's left alone by all Gods and Deities he never
believed in anyway but most of all by himself or is it
his "loved" ones in the twisted way he loves
His only faith is his own rightness now proven wrong
has made him fall off his safe little cloud
Reality scares him more than he could ever imagine
and he deceived himself most of all
And all he's got left are the memories...
of how it should've been
time and sense have peeled every layer of preciously
applicated varnish on his perfect utopy
and uncover rotten depths of given up hope
he wanted to unwrap the gift too fast and burnt his expectations
staring into emptyness with what's left of life in his hands...
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