I don’t know which story…
I don’t know which story is holding me hostage. Is it one of righteousness, justice, or whatever nonsense is baked into my psyche that I end up freezing in my place?
I don’t know which story has a memory of its own carved in the back of a person I don’t know anymore and if anything I never knew yet it persists.
I don’t know which story keeps me this angry every single time it meets a resonance of its home which I don’t want, like, or recognize, and yet weighs me down.
What is it with this machinery so broken that it pays its respect to a story and not me? It doesn’t listen or care for my frustration. It speaks its mind whenever it wants without permission.
What is it that leaves me unable, un-wanting, and ready to leave everything behind at the beckoning of…
~ a fiction tale told I don’t remember by who…
~ a lie beheld in abbeys I don’t own…
~ a silent assassin killing me with a swift stab that I never see coming…
I don’t know which story…
~ let me be
~ forget about me
~ I’d die for you to disappear
And yet you stubborn s…. t… oooo ry… dead or alive you survive and for that I pay tribute to your torment in its sacred agony that I can’t wait to betray…
you just wait…
I hope I will prevail but in case I don’t … you now know where I stand.
Tried I have to find you…
Tried I have to live without you…
Tried and tired I have been even though all along I never knew you…
Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~