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Hello my Bellow
Current mood:
artistic
To the halls and the starry night, the forgotten walls and faces that carry me to the kingdom keep. The further we go, the harder we fight, and the longer my sleepless nights. What is it that you hold over me, that gives me no peace and leaves me cursed with endless strife? Perhaps it was the simplicity, the weight you give me in this life. A simple Hello my own personal orchestral death bellow.
I find you sitting at the edge of my bed, above my head, whispering in my ear. My cardinal sin or waxing wane, leaving me in eternal pain, dragging my feet through every thousand years. Must I recluse or leave this plain? To keep the fear of understanding you away from my neurotic brain. No caffeine or croissant, strawberry, or smile seems to shake this feeling that I'm drowning in the air even when I've been sat down for a while.
Is this what mortals call pressure? Why is it so hard to do good when you perpetuate bad? When the weather and your feelings are intrinsically woven, the slightest change may make you sad. How unbecoming of humanity and immortality that we dare lay claim to anything other than destruction. From kingdoms to skyscrapers, bronze to metal, and harps to techno where have the cherubs gone?
Do the gods even dare look this way anymore?
As a creature born of dark and disgraced in light, it gives me nothing but bile and spit to know we are our blight. I hear the death bellow calling and the waxing wane of love failing, tis saddening. Enraging. All consuming. To watch the kind be leashed and the cruel upheld, to see nothing but rot. Decay. And the facade that one day, it'll be all okay. Pray tell do you think this kingdom will do well? With it's hustling, it's bustling and it's shiny stamp of all is fair.
Harrowing to know that the darkness resides there, in the bosom of all that is good and just. All that is right against the wrong. To see the poison grow so strong. I weep for those who have done no wrong, the children who laugh with free will, and the people who have built its shelter from times long gone. But all good things must come to an end.
I am no hero, I am no friend.
I am all, that is to know, that is to wonder what is about the end. Nothing. Forgotten and cloaked in darkness. Unseen and unheard, Silent, Harrowing.
So run from it as long as you can, till I snap at your heels and coax your mind. Reminding you that the end will be waiting here, just for you. Run, run, scream all you can. It is not a place for little lambs, This is the end. A place for no man.
https://youtu.be/Lo6KK-PY-Ps?feature=shared
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