In the Tunnelled Aoth

I can ask for you to spare me a thought But you can never spare me your heart What matters to people like us the most Is the demon of contempt we host Our emotions are skeletons On the face, an old museum of sorts Wrinkled, numb and void of all feeling We display decay, without any hope of healing Corrosive, instead of faith runs through our vanity Poisoning all the connecting veins of humanity We have formulated the chemistry of a fear To bleed the residue of pain with a drop of a tear Love does not lie, it is upwardly mobile Sometimes we miss it in our hassle and bustle Looking for the meaning of life in the tunnelled aoth Much like us, it never stops searching for the truth