As pure and nascent as the rain,
Tear me apart.
Consume my heart.
Scribe your ideology into the deepest, darkest part of me.
Ah, Love, I've made these mental scars.
Why won't they heal?
Oh, they've become a part of me.
The mask, the lie I live defines the depths of my soul.
There is nowhere left to run from myself.
Is it I, my soul, which writes itself into the pages of my life, leaving me calloused, yet painfully aware of each raindrop that I can't feel?
Have I made myself into an apathy embodied and made all too true?
I have lived; I have died; I have left an indelible mark upon this world, for good or ill, or so I often fancy to suppose. Entropy, grab hold of me! Revert my soul; revert my life into the chaos whence it came. Ah! Only to feel once more, would that in a dream was a reality! Hell is less enslavement than experience, that impossible induction.
So here's a cry of agony; a teardrop for the life I never lived.
So here's an empty scream of silence for a thought that cannot give me solace.
Love, but let your rain now fall
To kiss the ground beneath my feet.
Sweet Love, wash down into my soul.
Love, cleanse my heart.
Love, leave me incomplete.
Copyright © Natsirt Nav Neram | Year Posted 2005
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