Eyes are like the doors into our minds. 

You can tell just by looking into someone’s eyes what kind of world they live in.

Whether it's dark and night or happy and light

but i guess it doesn't matter which world you live in

because within each there are demons lurking.


They see all and know all and God forbid if they ever let you forget your mistakes

because they keep lists. 

Lists of your failures that they store under pathways 

and behind the trees that lead to the city all of our memories

just to remind us that you can't lock all your skeletons in a filing cabinet and forget about them.


I guess they do it to remind us that the dead will always rise.

Whether the land in your mind has a cemetary or not

or the trees are in bloom or are withered with rot

the zombified thoughts that you thought you forgot will never stay underground.


No matter how many times you try to lock them in your head

or convince yourself they're already dead,

they're not!


They're like energy.

These demons cannot simply be destroyed.


Even if you bury them under the house where your reminders you’re alive reside,

Floorboards decay

And houses can't stand forever.

Life just doesn't work that way.

It will all fall apart.


Even if the land in your mind has a bright sun and blue skies

and the trees serenade you every morning with what a wonderful day it will be

and you skip along these licorice roads

so fucking happy.

But have you even realized it yet?

It's all just a metaphor for the tight ropes of your sanity.


Or maybe you have realized it.

Is that why the sun doesn't shine?

Why you haven't seen the sky and the trees don't sing

and the wind only screams what you will never be...

did you forget what it meant to be happy?


Are you the sad clown in the carnival of your thoughts?

Parading from city to city seeing all the places you will never go

because it will all fall apart.


The dead will rise and cut your act short

so the fragile ends of the tight rope you are walking frays and splits

and you fall into the black pit that has become your mind because

poor you.

They ate your soul and you would've never known.


Have you realized yet that you like it?


You sick bastard! 

You enjoy the torment.

Live for the pain and strive for the hurt but why?!

Why do you do it?


Is it because it reminds you that you can feel?


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