The First Born The First Forgotten | + Follow Poet |
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Departure From Home

The looking glass and the reflection are broken,
but it does not lie
He has spoken
Yet, I do not recognize this who stares back
The moon was high,
the time was nigh,
after that, I would have to make my pack

Being a hateful sight won't help
Being stupid only overwhelm
Being THIS won't do,
I want to be apart from you

For this and for that,
I had set free my only gnat
I blame only her,
I already felt my soul suffer

The fake joy, I sought
Love, whatever it is, I've found none
I desired to abstain with this mad search,
As it only turned to aught
Love's name I now smirch
I want to hang my heart in a knot

To stop or to slow down things for a second,
I had to be bitter with a certain person
Someone who never ever beckoned,
My soul exclaimed " Onto myself, arson!"

It feels like I am treading the path for my demise
But I know that I am not
Finding myself knee deep in lies,
I may start to rot
I sought means to feel this void again,
Being Involve by Anguish's chains
To be under the care of Dispair

The line now lies blurred,
for Jehuty's light is sick
Negative emotions, stirred,
letting go of her old soothing trick

Our bond is broken,
letting out what was left unspoken
The hurt starting from the inside,
reflections upon this husk, on the outside
The crimson brings rust

This woman gave me life
A life I didn't ask for,
nor it seems I have the right,
when to choose to fast forward it
My mind roams far, about what is life
Surely, can't be this
Forwhy this isn't right
I gave her disdain and hatred instead

She spoke of her ways
But all I grasped were failures
A nature passed onto me in daze

A gift of ignorance, with many lures
To her, to me, to you, from the world,
resulting in the utmost worst upbringing

To allow her to glimpse, was my worry,
perhaps it was too much punishing,
presenting why she shouldn't have had a lineage

Which brought her the tears,
as she saw the linkage
Whilst an old shears,
was brought as a visage to me...

Now that tears were given,
blood shall be given

Flowing down the drain,
the shadows in my mind and body are slain

An attempt to undo this so called life,
obscuring the sight, should suffice

To not see, to not feel,
to not think, to not exist

You may think,
that there are always another ways,
as like by the paper and ink,
that a life, or a fraction of it, should not be to one to reclaim

Alas yourself you deceive,
as only through such mannerisms,
a man is free from peeve

Copyright © The First Born The First Forgotten | Year Posted 2014

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