0250. there were suspicions and there were rumours. but nothing beats having the truth whipped out at you, lacerating your stark naked flesh, prying it open fresh and bright maroon; skin, flesh, blood. on top of these wounds after they heal up, you get to keep the scars like a souvenir you purchase when you go abroad to tour some sorrowful and depressing country you've never been to before, serving a purpose to remind you that you've not only been cheated - you were the creator of the lie and the lie in itself.
one can only help so much if you dont help yourself see the scars of truth that has already been inflicted on your. who's unafraid of being hurt, scared, lonely and desperate? dont give yourself an excuse to become something you dont deserve to become. you're more than this. you're above this. please question yourself: why dedicate your life to something that will evetually hurt you so deeply?
enough. take one good last look and finish off this crazy ride into the sunset of self fabrication and disillusion. once you're done lying to yourself, you should wake up your bloody idea, soldier, and mull over the mud of stupidity that you've smeared yourself all over with.
you dont want the scars of truth and yet you want the best of your lies. no one ever gets the best of both worlds, my friend, absolutely no one ever does.
No comments:
Post a Comment