As if you didn't know how it feels to lose.
As if you didn't know how it feels to lose at dice with fate.
At least have some dignity.
As if it wasn't a lifetime spent on connecting the dots,
there was no pattern.
As if the irony was more than a defence mechanism
and we could actually laugh for a change.
As if steel hooks in our backs were more than a nuisance
and we could actually feel something.
Self-crucified – missed the right tree.
Tore the wrong eye out.
The hissing of hellfire.
Self-crucified – missed the right tree.
For this I've gained a victory.
I burn as I ought to.
As if everything was to be made right one day,
dreams don't come true for people like us.
As if the gods were bored with peace in our hearts
and their fingers are itchy.
As if we never broke people out of sheer boredom
and slept calmly among the wastes.
And then, we see bright and clear.
As if we would be someone else,
while mindlessly wandering through the mountains.
As if we would be someone better,
spelling purgatory in Latin alphabet.
Self-crucified – missed the right tree.
Tore the wrong eye out.
The hissing of hellfire.
Self-crucified – missed the right tree.
For this I've gained a victory.
I burn as I ought to.
As if all this was something more
than another footnote on a postcard from nowhere,
another chapter in the handbook for exercises in futility.
Créé le 03/10/21 à 16:24 par
Svartkonst