AndrewWood'sDeath
Member
- Aug 11, 2021
- 25
On the day I die don't blame me for giving up on the world
But just know
A demon consumed my mind.
So full of fear at would happen if we could not sit side by side
I embraced you with fervor.
I should have known a foreign body
But we have been told to accept ourselves.
It is only in the start of these waning years that I see
you were not a part of me.
I'm really not a creative person, I'm really not a wild spirit.
These all come from you, my brother, my friend, my fire which is consuming me.
I am a grey dried flower who sees the world in black and white but can appreciate it that way.
Can love the still and stagnant river.
My river is crossed with two bridges the compromise of both sides.
This vivid paint smeared wildfire which has always burned in the background was never a part of me, a faction of my own mind, as I believed it to be.
I was sure that you were a part of me which meant I was sure I had to make us friends.
Make that bridge of both sides like I always do.
Oh, but I question how many others of us have made this mistake?
How many like me who now do not have the strength to tell the world, have shaken your hand as well and lived to regret it?
My tears pour endlessly, they feel to me as though they are evaporated before they ever know life, vanished by your heat.
But they pour out in front of everyone the whole world any time, all the time, a whirlwind of confusion.
My smile, my song turned into a constant scowl trying to discern a truth all others must already know.
A blur of faces and times and deadlines which I must meet to ensure myself I am still ticking and that you haven't pulled me under yet.
I am losing the strength to kick any longer.
Should I feel calmer knowing I can stop fighting so hard.
I am so tired.
From the time I realized, it was already too late I should never have tried to escape you burning brother.
I am cold
I am sinking back into a feverish heat as I look forward to see my final years
Another three I will pass, scraping meager accomplishments out of scorched and wilted flesh.
Another two I will survive, barely outside the confines of a totally overwhelming terror, just managing to keep myself through the motions and standing while I put things on "hold" just until I'm better.
Just until I can't smother the ember at the center of the furnace.
But it's too late, you can't kill your friend. You can't kill yourself.
What do you call someone who has been by your side, grown with you and fought along side you?
A story of resentment only to slowly accept each other followed by years of torture and betrayal.
What do you call this?
You call this friend like he is your brother, call him like he is practically a part of you.
Another one year where I will lie still, or run mad.
Another second and I will vanish.
The grey flower fried, a piece of dust floating into the arms of their second oldest friend.
Today, in just another second I will float away looking down on you fire.
Watching you grow.
When I cut my heart open and spilled my blood for you I wanted not to pay you alms but to put you out.
You are certainly cruel and I should certainly hate you, But...I understand.
Everyone wants a friend.
Another second and I will vanish.
But just know
A demon consumed my mind.
So full of fear at would happen if we could not sit side by side
I embraced you with fervor.
I should have known a foreign body
But we have been told to accept ourselves.
It is only in the start of these waning years that I see
you were not a part of me.
I'm really not a creative person, I'm really not a wild spirit.
These all come from you, my brother, my friend, my fire which is consuming me.
I am a grey dried flower who sees the world in black and white but can appreciate it that way.
Can love the still and stagnant river.
My river is crossed with two bridges the compromise of both sides.
This vivid paint smeared wildfire which has always burned in the background was never a part of me, a faction of my own mind, as I believed it to be.
I was sure that you were a part of me which meant I was sure I had to make us friends.
Make that bridge of both sides like I always do.
Oh, but I question how many others of us have made this mistake?
How many like me who now do not have the strength to tell the world, have shaken your hand as well and lived to regret it?
My tears pour endlessly, they feel to me as though they are evaporated before they ever know life, vanished by your heat.
But they pour out in front of everyone the whole world any time, all the time, a whirlwind of confusion.
My smile, my song turned into a constant scowl trying to discern a truth all others must already know.
A blur of faces and times and deadlines which I must meet to ensure myself I am still ticking and that you haven't pulled me under yet.
I am losing the strength to kick any longer.
Should I feel calmer knowing I can stop fighting so hard.
I am so tired.
From the time I realized, it was already too late I should never have tried to escape you burning brother.
I am cold
I am sinking back into a feverish heat as I look forward to see my final years
Another three I will pass, scraping meager accomplishments out of scorched and wilted flesh.
Another two I will survive, barely outside the confines of a totally overwhelming terror, just managing to keep myself through the motions and standing while I put things on "hold" just until I'm better.
Just until I can't smother the ember at the center of the furnace.
But it's too late, you can't kill your friend. You can't kill yourself.
What do you call someone who has been by your side, grown with you and fought along side you?
A story of resentment only to slowly accept each other followed by years of torture and betrayal.
What do you call this?
You call this friend like he is your brother, call him like he is practically a part of you.
Another one year where I will lie still, or run mad.
Another second and I will vanish.
The grey flower fried, a piece of dust floating into the arms of their second oldest friend.
Today, in just another second I will float away looking down on you fire.
Watching you grow.
When I cut my heart open and spilled my blood for you I wanted not to pay you alms but to put you out.
You are certainly cruel and I should certainly hate you, But...I understand.
Everyone wants a friend.
Another second and I will vanish.
