The Modest LoopMature

I.

Write without thinking and it all becomes true,

That without the voice inside your head there is nothing to do.

Without the love of those you miss, without the girl who’s lost your kiss.

There isn’t any hope for you anymore, so just sit behind that door, against the furniture that is not yours.

I just can’t wait any longer for a world to start. I want to take my part, I just want to take my part.

It’s too lost and I’ve got no way back, there is no changing where you are at this moment in time, and there is nothing you can do about the leaders of the world.

The clay has been fired, heat now gone, the vase sits still. One small bubble can no longer burst it.

It’s the pawn piece of the darkened chessboard that questions his own thoughts. He.

He is the first one killed.

Taking two steps forward and forgetting that there is a side path to his existence.

Yet, without the first blow, the game would never start and there would be no room to grow.

Grow and dominate.

It’s a wound that just won’t quite heal. A bad thought that lingers in your back of your mind all day.

Yarn so tangled you just want to cut it and start it over. Is it worth untangling?

--

II.

Faith is there, but we just can’t see.

The messages are on route, but they won’t hit home. They won’t make it to the capital they seek.

Now it just lies in distant belief.

Discover something new and watch as it makes its way through the ranks, just to make sure it is okay,

okay for all that pay.

A global balance of saddened niceness, leaving shadows in the light of a cloudless afternoon.

How long can a mask be seen through a kaleidoscope?

Watching the wrong message beaten into youth that know no better

Embracing and expecting each blow

A screen so enticing even parents can’t say no.

It’s a mold for a moldmaker

An axe given to the blacksmith, bread for the baker

And we all smile coyly and take the gift.

--

III.

We discover so others can see what they can use the power for

We search new lands for new vacation homes

Just letting ice melting in cold water, we wait.

Knowing it’s coming but not knowing when,

When we will ever see our true earth again?

Now we wait for fruit to turn to tin

And rocks all to turn vacant and hollow

This inferno, burning like faded candlelight

Is there anything left we can do but believe?

So find a place where you can hide away.

Backed, through the deepest ravines

As if, for nothing else, at least you can ignore their plights

But he who chooses no side also makes a choice

And if you find yourself jumping the fence enough times,

You may just get impaled on it.

-

The tongue that gets bitten has no more words to say

And yet it talks and talks and talks all fucking day.

The only thing that really needs to be destroyed is ignorance

But we need the concrete to explain, and exceptions are always there

Always.

--

IV.

So there is no truth for anything. No false bearings on a hinged door

There is no door

 The bearings, not false, but non-existent.

So remember.

It will always revert back to this.

Five senses and what we know

Is that we live inside a nothingness

A nothingness that continues to exist

The End

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