You never know how much,
You really believe in anything
Until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death.
It's so easy,
To say you believe, a rope to be strong and sound.
But suppose you had to hang by that rope
Over a precipice
Wouldn't you then soon discover, how much you really trusted it?
No one ever told me grief felt so like fear, we are promised sufferings,
They were part of the program, that we were never told.
Blessed are they that mourn
And I accept it.
Cursed am i who yearns
For something different.
I've got nothing, that I haven't bargained for.
I've got nothing, that I haven't bargained for,
yelling as a shake and recoil, echoes from wall to chair.
Fingers tight between the noose and neck, Trying to purchase air,
A fray begins to form,
As I slowly disappear...
-Death of beloveds are just amputations-
I've lost my limbs and now my home is vacant...
I'm losing my limbs.
Copes, the senseless workings of a man, who won't accept the fact that
There is nothing we can do with suffering,
Except suffer it.
Life, is just a handful of death, rope snaps then a gasp for breath,
Two men in blue, enter the room, try to construe representations of gloom.

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