I thought I had come to find the cure to my sickness that lurks within my heart of flesh. I thought your arms of sidewalk chalk and eyes of magic were going to cure this gash in my chest, but now I see the truth: one love can never heal the utter annilation of another.
---
I have a story of woe and malice and love and betrayal and all of those chiche words that often describe the saddest and most beautiful of life stories. I have this story on my shoulders that I want to share with the world, scream to the world, only it's not entirely mine to share. It involves so many faces and fists and names that are not my own. However, the masses call for words of life, so here they come - tumbling from my lips.
- - -
My dear sound boy has grown into something crooked and broken. He's got nothing in his heart but saddness and lyrics to songs no one else has ever heard of. He's slipped into this perfect world of depression where only his frowns feel right. The rawness of his cheeks scream stories in my face, and the stiffness of his arms around my shoulders are whispering his pain in my ear. On some deep plane of subconscious, I know how detached he has made himself but (at the same second) I want nothing more than to be his savior because he needs one, and I'm ready to play God.
- - -
This wasn't supposed to be about me.
- - -
Sound boy has lost that happiness I loved. His smiles are as hollow as his eyes, and I'm losing my faith in him. When will he finally step over that line? When will his forearms beg to be freed and his chest tear open; it won't be that singsong voice of his that escapes - but screaming, endless screaming. I'm watching him lose faith in himself, but all I can do is stand on that line and try to push him away.
- - -
Sound boy, darling, learn the words to your self-faith and sing them every morning and every night because you need them more than anyone I know, and we'd all miss you terribly if you ever stepped over that line.
No comments:
Post a Comment