Stirring, throbbing, vortex of cold.
I shiver and wait, but the pain has been left untold.
Can anyone else feel this feeling of chaos inside?
When you feel it it's as if no one else can, because you are hidden.
I've had my fun and my bursting joy, but find it hard to bear remembering.
It was all empty it seems.
Where are the days when everything was so simple?
Why can't things just be plain?
The dense, dark hand of emotion clenches my throat with it's trembling rebuke.
You are no one, it says.
You are alone.
No one has ever needed you.
It lies darkly.
Swirling deep contempt, choking my thoughts
sticking in my chest like squelching mire.
I beg for my end but then light.
Cold light.
The worst thing is not the darkness that threatens you but the hope that decieves you to stay.
That light... teasingly lingering at the end of your sight.
If you could just reach it.
If you could just barely touch it's glory...
You try with all your might.
Bright city lights strain out the darkness you see.
We turn them on brighter so we can forget.
But the irony's so stark you writhe with regret.
They don't know, but I think I can say...
There's one way to escape and that's through the dark of the day.
Look at them smile with cold tearing eyes.
Look at them pry with their sly queries acting so caring.
They just want to find that someone is worse than themselves.
They rip at your soul and take out all that they desire...
Like some diabolical pinata.
They hold you in "kindness" while they suck out your life.
You hold them tighter begging it back.
Holding on to their hands dragging behind them and weeping.
Begging that they put back the piece of your heart.
But it is impossible. They have devoured it.
No matter how hard you pull it just hurts more.
All the more.
Give it back! You scream.
But the thief has left his pitiful victim. They have had their fill.
And you are a shell sucked dry.
Turn on the lights! Brighter brighter!
Maybe they'll warm your soul.
But alas the bright light is still cold and unfeeling.
It does not even warn of the dangers.
But there it is still deceiving us cruelly.
Here is your precious hope! it taunts.
Feed me till I reach the sky in my fame.
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This is your last chance to turn back!! Avert your eyes! (...I may have built up to this a little too much.)
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--Heliotrope Waistcoat--
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