You do not know, for you are not me


The world weighs heavy on my soul; it threatens to crush everything that’s been building up within me.

I believe that I am fragile and in this very predicament, I am breaking apart at the seams.

The very shape upon which I mold carries each and every day that has surpassed me, that has surpassed you.

In the hollow cave of those complex intricacies, I have strung together all of the tears, all of those manipulated bad dreams, all of these twisted lusts for an end.

They are the foundation on which I lay my head.

And when it comes down to it, I often question whether I’d rather be alive than dead.

They tempt me to see all the beauty that lies in the crevices of this worn out society, but I am stuck in an iridescent tale that bears scars; they will never heal.

And so I trudge on in light of all that I have become, in hopes that those walls won’t see what I’ve seen.

I scream that you must forget the dark holes that have been punched into the sky, they will soon fade.

For this world, I promise you, has an everlasting sense of tragedy and it is up to you to discern where the true creature of smiles lay.

You do not notice the darkness that creeps within me, for you have yet to see beyond my light.

You do not carry my burdens, for you have your own.

But, tell me, if all of these corners would vanquish from your world, would you have wished that you would’ve known? Would you have wished that you would’ve seen, that there is more to this than you or I will ever grasp?

You do not know, for you are not me.

And do not ever forget, that I’ve always been slightly slipping away, begging for your eyes to see, all that I have ever seen; begging for you to know, even though you are not me.


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