Sympathy of the blind
Stranger things have happened,
I dont want your sympathy or your lust,
I want the feelings that you once had,
Everything we had, i just want back,
Subjection is naive but my feelings only grow,
Told things get better once im over that hill,
Yet as Everest grows and so does thy heart,
What is one to think when everything is gone.
Emptiness of the soul is unclean,
The cavity that grows is only deeper,
A thousand miners dig into the hole,
To make the heart weaker,
And for fondness to develop,
A stab wound isnt nice by metaphor,
Nor a person whose hate is so bitter.
Told i must grow and get over the hill,
How can i develop under the blinding work,
Done by so many to keep it down.
Creativeness is done by the soul,
The world is built by yourself i am told.
So as life goes down, should my soul go up,
Does heaven lie near or is it mirage.