How does it feel,
to be stuck, between two worlds?
To be a snail,
wanting to get out of its shell?
To choose between comfort and freedom?
You’re confined, you can’t move, even a tendon!
You’ve reached an island,
but it’s just blue everywhere!
This, the wage for your hamartia,
is the lethal remedy of your pride;
of your ignorance,
towards that very thing,
that kept you breathing!

How does it feel,
to do something which you,
know will destroy you?
And you suffer for it!
Life comes down so hard on you,
that you feel crushed?
Crushed under expectations;
crushed under that fatal flaw.
This place, so sequestered,
where the ache stabs the core.
There is nobody around,
nobody to discern the bellow,
nobody who can even slightly,
understand your desperation;
understand your need for belonging.

How does it feel,
to be eaten away,
by the grubs of uncertainty,
of regret, of pain?
To know that this torture will annihilate you?
This nightmare won’t end;
this fire, will consume you.
There is no denouement to this plot;
the preset is useless, just spurious love!
But the scene will end,
everything is terminal:
and everything will end,
and with this, you will too!

How does it feel,
when even your strands cry out for help?
And it’s still. There is nobody,
to acknowledge back.
In that state of absolute tranquility:
Hush! A serpent. From the conifer,
twirling through the mud:
towards its onslaught.
It slithers inside you, from your toes,
crawls underneath your skin,
covertly through your veins, through your blood.
You can feel the sly creep, going up your gut;
and when it reaches your heart, the stealth is gone.
It bites, it rolls, smothers, stifles;
It crushes your lungs, breaks your bones,
stabs you from the inside.
Venom and fondness inflict you.
There is gore everywhere,
and lying on that blood, just like that:
the pain is gone.

How does it feel,
to hear voices in your head?
To have them control you?
It is your guiding spirit.
Evil paradigms in your mind,
slither through the cracks of your skull.
Patterns so sinister, of love, of war,
like maggots eating into the hemispheres of your cerebrum,
in a place where you stand alone.
Loneliness pierces into you.
Anger which mutilates your muscles apart,
the spirits which slink though your eyes,
this skepticism which you can no longer endure,
intimidate you.
And as you pass into the beneaths,
you cross the line,
to attain nirvana:
Where there is no suffering,
no lust, no expectations, no promises;
where there is no fear;
And you rest, alone, underneath, forever.


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