I can neither grow nor wither,
Thus I remain frozen in evolution.
Lashing out at an empty world seeping with decaying lost promises,
Pretend compassion poisons the air in which I breath,
Consciously hoping that this day,
My soul shall be spared a timely doom.
Patiently waiting, accepting the coming torture,
While watching blood from my pierced heart spill,
And trickle like warm honey.
Déjà vu creating a sensation of chills down my spine,
Forcing the reminiscence of the way you once caressed my face.
Then it happens, for a blink of a moment,
Its as if the vicious abuse were all but a dream,
And all my devotion, hath not die inn vein.
For many moments of such pain,
I find well worth the patience,
When the ending result is,
But only an imagined illusion of you.
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