Each day is the same, seeringpound of resounding pain,
Following thine temptation to the brink of insanity.
Every day cursed to look upon the face or forbidden desires,
And forced to live a life of mental immortality in solitude.
Pondering ways to release the enormous toxin of emotion,
And wondering why during the most opportune time that you held it in.
Following your fantasies is neither a life choice nor a reason,
But is nothing more and nothing less than an insecent rant on reality.
Watching the person you know you are longing for,
While they absent mindedly emulate your feelings for another.
To be by the side of the enitity which demands you of your love,
Fighting off tears of hatred and happiness yet somehow never combined.
Watching as the intangible object of happiness walks away,
And with nothing ado but simply stand off in the shadows with nothing to say.
Wandering the winding and never ending roads of a forgotten memory,
And yet with nothing to fill the ever growing void of the mind.
The emptiness and the hole in thine soul is only so large,
It can only be filled by a simple and humble number, that number is 2.
These parts of myself reside within the faces and bodies of others
And I cannot relinquish my words to them to regain my sprit and all it's entirety
I look at your beautiful face and query the fact of why the hapiness has fled,
And why what I once felt must be taken from me and never to be returned.
I silently weep in the shadow of insolvency as my curvilinear mind wanders,
Never to be halted on a single notion, and never to be answered.
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