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This was made for a friend that died. Miranda(Lost Inside) R.I.P. November 8 2001 |
| Hidden among a filament of agony. One searches for truth. But all one may comprehend is pain and suffering. No one said it would be easy. And no one said it would be so hard. Take it back to the start. The beginning. Oblivious to the random torturing of ones own mind. Until one can understand the chaos, one has good times all around. Lost Inside. The only way there can be. The filaments build up into a thick rope and extends itself through out the depths of ones mind. It binds your thoughts, bending your will to better serve its own purpose. Discourse. Instability. Soulless. Ravaging. Severing. Killing. Killing in the name of ones own self. No sense? But perfect sense. Condescending and contradicting views and morals passed down to one. One stable mind turns into that of the hunted. Hunted by whom? Everyone. Including and especially ones own self. For the purpose of discharge. To be free once more, is to be truly happy. And in death, one will be released from that filament of agony. Tired of the tirade. Tyrants of many kinds and purposes fill ones mind with a dreaded horror, that may only be quenched upon ones own death bed. Ones own worst enemy can be lost among suicidal tendencies. |
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