I’m the most sensible lunatic ever to speak. I’m the cruelest saint; God, I’m a freak. I’m a balance of implosion always fighting with explosion. I’m truly rare, I’m like a star; I’ve gone nowhere, but I’ve come so far along the way. It’s hard to say what I’m feeling, you see. Something’s always stealing the moment from me. I can’t express it with the perfection that it requires, I can’t address it with this deception that transpires it seems in these human dreams. I’m tired of the contradictions of the wild depictions of my mind against my heart. I’m not the kind to fall apart, it just always happens to be what must always happen to me. I’m truly confused, I’ve been unduly used by thought. I simply sought too hard, too long, for the sound of that song that I found when I was too young to be aware that it can’t be sung and it’s not fair. I wanna sing it, I tried to wing it but I used up the choice; I abused my voice attempting to scream at you, preempting a dream that was true and truly bad. Of newly sad angels and all the tangles they’ve become bound in with that one crowned sin in that high throne, a sin that I’ve known. I touched the world and I fell, I got hurled to this hell because I wanted to feel it but now I want to heal it from the fire that scarred it. From the liar that started this descent into evil and bent us into medieval darkness. The hardness of this cold place has worn an old face upon my soul, it’s taken it’s toll. It’s breaking my wings using beautiful things and like a dutiful artist I can’t fight beauty she’s the hardest of moody women to hurt. She’ll flirt, she’ll flash a smile to stun you awhile, to run you to bed where you’ll forget the things she said that earned you the right to anger; that burned you that light of danger. Again you’re blind, she’s in your mind... she’s the most sensible lunatic ever to speak; she’s the cruelest saint, God, she’s a freak. She’s a balance of implosion always fighting with explosion. I’m almost there, but I’m so far and I have to stop and stare; she’s like a star. She burns in me, and she turns in me, bold and youthful tearing in every direction; old and truthful she’s wearing every complexion, I can’t tell anymore what I love and what I hate. As when I fell before, from above, it was fate that I had chosen. I was wrapped in her, woven, trapped- in her- cruelty she tore me from the clouds. It was beauty that bore me from the shrouds of divinity; for touch perception of serenity I followed deception to this earth, to my human birth. |
Submission Name: The Most Sensible Lunatic
