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