Once You Look

Anyone can see it

But nobody

Chooses to look,

Don't be nobody.


Everyone who looks

Finds something they didn't want to find

Goes somewhere they didn't want to go

Have you ever hated yourself?

You hate knowing



Looking, seeing: being so caught up in what this could possibly



No one, not even you who have seen everything, knows what it means to look.

One can't know.

Perhaps you shouldn't look, shouldn't

Question who you are, wonder about the pieces that

Remain, the soulless eyes buried in the tomb of your face

Skin marked, criss-crossed, stretched, lined like an Etch A Sketch, lined by

Time, the only thing left once you look, searching

Under the seams

Vying for the dying dreams


Wondering where the moments could have disappeared, life reduced to

Xeransis; a soul without the water of wishes.

You don't remember who you are-- being

Zealot without zeal, the great empty shell.

The End

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