The mind is adept at its own pretence
When a foreseeable ending claws at its sense
Rapid spate of change is hard to allow
Crystal clear thoughts, deviate from the brow
An uncontrolled destined moment in time
Perspectives of honesty bring up the divine
Amnesiac spaces previous and after
Brings the transition, not nearer nor faster
Change sparks defence to raise fully clad
Denial, like a sane man humouring the mad
A rapid such ending wretches the soul
Pulls what we possess to never let go
Our sleepless gut instinct, repulses the last
Repelling an echo of struggles near past
For even the efficient an ending feels strange
A limbo state not desiring to change
An unconscious, unknown steadily beckons
Lifetime of intake, although its just seconds
Confusion is ripe though doesn’t persist
Without endings your presence wouldn’t exist
On ponder a moment which presents a choice
An alternate view to retain a lost voice
Reflect to proceed, an perceptive mind wins
Determine an ending, is where a new first begins.
If you notice how I feel
Please don’t go ahead and ask
As my tears will start to surface
And wash away my mask,
You stare in to my eyes
To notice I’m not blinking
Please keep my aching secret
Inside my heart is sinking,
I will just get through this moment
Squeeze my hand, but keep my lie
My strength will suppress my tears
Only alone will I break and cry.
To believe in the chemical of blackness,
A slight of light in the sky, turns out to be a fool’s romance.
Which means stars are a gift from distance,
Not a shooting mirage, viewed by chance.
The past is the past until it doesn’t last,
When does it start catching up to you?
The answer is never,
if you endeavor to end history prematurely.
Get off, get on the ride
Both a form of suicide
Dont just weep on seeing the sheep,
Wander to your own haven
Where thoughts are enslaved
And banished on the grounds of rationality.
Can never change a believer
Unless doubt breeds from within,
Then belief becomes a story
An ugly fairy tale
That grew its roots in truth
But no longer serves a purpose
Other than a reminder
Imagination has a sensation
That lends itself to emotional illusion.
No matter what our minds tell us
We all feed at the same table
Others choose to leave
Some are not able
Once I spoke what I heard
And was hit with ridicule
I wrote it down in words
And become my own hero
When we die
We all become ashes
A blink of the worlds eye
A life over in flashes
Psychologygically out of place
We all have the one face
And feed round the same table
Echoes in the mind
Flow rampant, encircling
Affecting most prominent responses
It is unmoving
The primary speaks truth
Imitations less reliant
Consistent in its perseverance
A skimming stone
Simmering to a sunken weight
Dead in the water
Sits of an innocence
Vibrating ripples of continuance
When sat alone
With the weight of blood
Panicked in solitude
Restricted from external wounds
Do we cry,
Or lie down upon the sympathy?
Voicing the same tale
To heighten ears
Imagining on empathic fears
Which soon dies
From curious eyes.
The scars of eternity sparks interest
To unknown generations
Seeking if the whispers are truth.
They are, if not worse,
Bones were cracked
Shock crushed the breath,
The story revealed forever wrapped in light
How close we were to death.
I see images
Far away from personal space
Hiding in the shadows.
The corner of my eye
Natural reflexes spin wildly,
Transforms with haste
Back to benign.
Something insidious is watching
Rousing my senses
Alerting my suspicions.
Paranoia becomes a suspect
Though clean living proves
The mind is all powerful and complex
When left to wander freely
And without forced encouragement.
When will the process erupt
From viewing shapes
To hearing voices,
I’m scared I’ll answer
Scared of its suggestions
Of convincing me to believe
They exist in life not just my reality.
I see images elevate back from the dead
Convincing my mind
It’s not just, all in my head