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This cub came from #339792. Do not remove this tag! Please do not: chase, sell, giveaway, kill, or abandon this cub. If you decide not to keep them please send them back
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Think of these thoughts as hackneyed and trite.
Clichéd, depraved, disturbing and contrived.
Shallow, cold, wretched. Miserable, dark and any other adjective.
Choose to sit safely out of the sun,
away from rays so blinding to the eye.
Singing songs someone’s already sung. Averting gaze from beautiful light.
But as complacency settles, anxieties will rise
and part this Soul as Jekyll parted Hyde.
Now I’m but half of a hollow man’s lies:
the love, the hate, the emotional side.
What’s the point in trying if this end result of dying
sits persistently encloaked in dimness.
Life can’t thrive controlled by digits.
“I know I’m weak. I know that I’m vile.
But sometimes that is needed to survive.”
That’s what I’ll say to rationalize.
“I’m needed if we’re to stay alive.”
And yet, here I lie with black, sunken eyes.
My Mind’s consigned our sighs to a leaden void.
The Soul remains tempered. I remain plied.
Condemned ‘til we are both all but destroyed.
But I know that one plus one can’t equal two
if happiness is both our truths.
Our total sum must equal one if we’re to find that golden hue.
So spiraling down entropically. I beg of thee, have mercy on me.
I am just a boy, you see.
I plead of thee, have sympathy for me.
See how it hurts when the sound
begins to ring.
And you feel it start to rot.
And you beg for it to stop.
But you’ve already dug your lot in the ground.
See how The Mind tricks The Soul
into being something sickly, dead and cold
as you feel it start to tire and fester so, so slowly.
Up until the point where it will finally die.
Just in time to see what could have been.
Do what you want, you automaton freak.
No, I can no longer bring myself to care.
This hollowed out vessel’s beginning to creak.
So take control, let’s see how you fare.
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