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I forget to spare the last moments where you last see me,
and I last see that look on your face.
Where have we gone, to come so far? And yet I am able to deny everything and anything at all.
As I watch more mournful pain seep from your being,
I pretend indifference.
I commence in withdrawl, I begin to shudder in want.
Since when have I ever surpassed the oppurtunity to condelence?
Since I have come across such an attitude you portray.
I cannot come to terms with the un-equality of your ways.
I wish you were aware of how much empathy rises inside me.
How much I would tolerate to the point of torture.
Soley based on the contingency of possible outcomes,
that could possibly, and perpetually, effect my well-being.
If there is anything left to impaire. Honestly.

How simply a moment left unsaid, as words linger in my mind- how much the time space between us digs further and further into me.
Until it digs deep within the core.

That is when it signals.
I cannot bare what has been bared from the beginning.
I could possibly commence into what I call, 'just another thought'
and completely ignore the purpose for which is in my sorrow.

I haven't known my own sorrow enough to say that it is just an emotion.
Because I beg to differ with anyone who thinks so.
My grief pulls at the very end of my emotions, as it screams to me how it begs to be ended. Like a suicidal adolescent with a broken chair and a snapped roped of inconvience.

What a painful procedure. To pretend the happiness in which is not given. In order to portray a moment of seemfulness towards those with wandering questions.
What other option do I have, you?

Oh tell me you think you know.
To come forth into the day, truimph in emotion- feelings of victory and ecetera.
Only to be deprived of all conquest, and brought to my knees.
All over, and over, and over again.

What other option do I have, you?












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