Mindset
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I thought with life upon a wire,I could aim a little higher.Force me behind a cageFor I should never swayWith you in arms, ever again. I am without control,Just the beast with nothing to holdBut his own entrails,His guilt,His form that has scarred the landscapeBy simply being here. Please let me lay aloneIn the open
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Only when I weepDo I feel tears that truly stickTo cheeks made of the same pallidityAs the stones above your grave. Cry more, will I?To the open winds, that scream back the same verseI jot down, upon paper of some pale oceanThat feels my fallen tears. I have loved with a heart that would not
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I cast asideWhere I have walked,Where the priests once talked,When they had looked over my shoulder,At the failure surrounding me.My lonely road,Has been a cold one. I say farewell,To a man who stood frozenBy a streamMade from his own tears. I whisper goodbyeTo the Hell I have forged from lies.Because, here I am,Ready to become
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“Upon many occasions, I have observed that a perspective only ever holds a candle to itself. Of course, this is true, when we consider what a perspective is. But I believe a perspective can be taken seriously, almost as if it were a fact. At what point does a mere ‘perspective’ become proven to be
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“To face reality seems to be the singular way to approach a progressive nature. And yet, all we do is learn, and never solve. We never extinguish the problem at its source, though will continue to dissect and dissect. We never yearn to see the problem vanish, so long as there is something to plunder
Modern Romanticism 