Is it better to be the illusion of something or to know you are nothing? The sweet lie or the barbed truth? It seems so obvious but when you care about some one, is it so simple? There is a foolish hope that refuses to be dislodged, saying “you may yet be something”.
Oh, self-delusion, how you soothe and spear the heart. Dream and be free with the freedom of a cage. Tell me that I matter.
Why must the heart care? Reason has fled. Why do you persist? Give up. Never give up. It is over.
A thousand things to say but not a word to be found. They hide behind this heart of mine and cower for fear of discovery. They poison it. It cries out without a voice. Weeps without eyes.
The dark has grown so bright; the light has grown so dim. Monochromatic, the world loses its splendor. Does the splendor reside only in the heart through which it is seen? Is it so easily lost when the light in our heart is diminished? Still the darkness crowds the world, leaving only small shadows of light.