Dying Throes
The truth is upsetting
Self deceit wedding my former self with a version sought
With settling aversion to loss of my virgin thoughts
I construct a new costly abode sheltering me from this sweltering heat
Saving me neatly from a smoldering head full of dreadful foreboding
A pulsating home wrought of materials that ought never erode
An enclosure of myth manufactured in my fractured mind captured in time
This sanctuary of warm yet war-torn memories
The burden I love, for no gifts from above could ever enrapture me to this painful degree
Although I sometimes see the way, the price I'm forced to pay
Though willingly, is stealing my will, pulling me to my knees
Forcing me to play this terrifying game of shame, blame, and infliction of pain
Endorsing the lame and coercing the greatness within us
To suffer the same grim fate that's steering what remains of my wearying brain
Is it too late to turn my back on this lack of conviction?
Is the addiction too strong?
Have bad habits gone too long to see a new dawn in my future and change what went wrong?
I gaze into the mirror longing to see but me looking back, the seer, the sage, growing wiser
Growing stronger of mind
But age is not kind any longer
The mirror reflects the body I'm spending and the youth slowly dwindling
Into to past, that vast emptiness of everything we could have done and should have done
But what's done is done and my illusion is now shaken
Taken off of my pedestal I'm no longer safe to waste away gracefully with my eyes welded shut
No longer held in place by fear of disgrace I can only stand and withstand the fruits of my haste
Embrace the old man with the lonely reflection and no sense of direction
Blinding pain of my own creation has forced me to see
And my eyes have fallen upon a bleeding heart with nowhere to start
A heart exposed for but one to enclose and heal of its dying throes