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Thursday, December 28, 2006

Endless Questions

What's it like,
To be the one to feel?
To have created a monster,
In the cold, stony depths of your heart.
Lurking in the shadows, never ready to strike.

How does it feel,
To know that it hurts?
Not like a twisted ankle,
Or anything quite as painful.
A breathless beast, bleeding for mercy.

Where do you go,
To pour out your soul?
Like a truant child confessing,
Or like a seasoned criminal, never admitting?
A wandering sense of morality, never quite sure.

When will it be enough,
To know that you've been here before?
Everything's the way it's always been.
You think you see, but it's all just a dream.
Blindly following the shadows of yesterday.

Why do you claim to know,
When you know it doesn't matter?
Or is it because no one cares to listen,
Not even yourself, or the walls that surround you?
Seeking the inevitable truth, that there is none.
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