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Description
I wonder how many people are haunted by their own thoughts,
chased and tormented as an elk is hunted by wolves.
My own mind pierces my brain with barbed chains.
I seek to delve in thought....
yet the pain my mind affords me is enough to drive me to numbness.
I must distract myself lest I go mad.
As I sit here it is as though my brain is swimming in ice
with tendrils of smoke as webs dancing thoughout.
A gentle throbbing, a slow beat like the rocking of a boat on calm waters.
My mind is pulsing.
What is this, it not quite clarity nor is it insanity.
I lack rhyme or reason.
Throughout my body I feel... I feel many things
I feel barbs of ice slithering down my shoulders
barbs... always barbs.
I feel emotions that do not feel my own.
I turned myself off and I have forgotten how do feel.
I cannot tell whether these are my feelings
or are they other's? Is it that I feel because I long to?
I long to feel what I can no longer be in touch with.
I can't view things as the innocent. I desire even for just a moment
Just a moment to feel the pure unadulterated...anything
That feeling not my own. Untainted. I almost hunger for it.
Even just to share, an emotion, a feeling. Love, happiness.
That special carefree satisfaction of which I lack.
I am tainted. My heart, my mind, my soul.
All of my being is covered with barbs. A sickly ichor of knowledge and scars
that taints all I feel and see.
I desire to feel, I shy away when I am made to feel.
do I shy away because I am made to feel when I do not desire
to be haunted by my barbed memories.
Or do I I feel my barbs because I desire the emotions I can't have?
Perhaps it is both.
When I die, will I fade and finally rest
or will I linger, a Wraith, completing my unfinished business
and then yet linger
desiring the emotions I am doomed never to have?
If only the barbs of my thoughts could rip off open old scars so they could heal anew
Instead of forcing me to flee, because I can't allow myself to feel
I must push things aside, because I must shoulder the burden
The world does not suffer people to live.

Description
I wonder how many people are haunted by their own thoughts,
chased and tormented as an elk is hunted by wolves.
My own mind pierces my brain with barbed chains.
I seek to delve in thought....
yet the pain my mind affords me is enough to drive me to numbness.
I must distract myself lest I go mad.
As I sit here it is as though my brain is swimming in ice
with tendrils of smoke as webs dancing thoughout.
A gentle throbbing, a slow beat like the rocking of a boat on calm waters.
My mind is pulsing.
What is this, it not quite clarity nor is it insanity.
I lack rhyme or reason.
Throughout my body I feel... I feel many things
I feel barbs of ice slithering down my shoulders
barbs... always barbs.
I feel emotions that do not feel my own.
I turned myself off and I have forgotten how do feel.
I cannot tell whether these are my feelings
or are they other's? Is it that I feel because I long to?
I long to feel what I can no longer be in touch with.
I can't view things as the innocent. I desire even for just a moment
Just a moment to feel the pure unadulterated...anything
That feeling not my own. Untainted. I almost hunger for it.
Even just to share, an emotion, a feeling. Love, happiness.
That special carefree satisfaction of which I lack.
I am tainted. My heart, my mind, my soul.
All of my being is covered with barbs. A sickly ichor of knowledge and scars
that taints all I feel and see.
I desire to feel, I shy away when I am made to feel.
do I shy away because I am made to feel when I do not desire
to be haunted by my barbed memories.
Or do I I feel my barbs because I desire the emotions I can't have?
Perhaps it is both.
When I die, will I fade and finally rest
or will I linger, a Wraith, completing my unfinished business
and then yet linger
desiring the emotions I am doomed never to have?
If only the barbs of my thoughts could rip off open old scars so they could heal anew
Instead of forcing me to flee, because I can't allow myself to feel
I must push things aside, because I must shoulder the burden
The world does not suffer people to live.