The Prefect Lie
Author: G.C.M. (aka Romantic Torment)
11/22/08
It’s just the same, as it was before
my mind slips into another conundrum
and it’s getting harder and harder to breath.
I can’t seem to help it anymore,
I can’t seem to control myself.
These demented thoughts rape my will to live.
Progression abounds around me,
and yet I remain stagnant in murky waters.
Everything changes but the soul.
And, now here I am (again); left to wonder
if it would be better to surrender.
I need a fucking reason to hold on.
What’s right. What’s wrong.
I lose either way I fall.
These moral dilemmas are tearing me apart.
Everything I ever truly wanted
was always just outside my reach.
Everything I ever truly loathed,
was always lying next to me.
I stumble. I fall.
I scream in fits of rage.
I claw. I bleed.
I cry in silent agony.
Solace always seems so enigmatic,
salvation a dying man’s wishful dream.
Tragedy abounds the broken hearted,
while no one is as they seem.
Masquerading a picture perfect world,
we scorn those that object our filthy lies.
Yet, we’re the ones truly disgusting inside.
And for all these reasons,
and for all those unsaid.
I ponder what’s the worth of living,
if we’re already dead.
What more needs to be heard,
with such a profound realization?
What more needs to be seen,
to acknowledge the truth of a statement?
What more needs to be felt,
to convey our tragedies and broken miseries?
“Abashed, the devil he stood,
and felt how awful goodness felt.”
And now I know why;
it hurts to trust in the perfect lie.
© 2008 by G.C.M. (aka RomanticTorment)
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