August 6, 2010
Is death cursed to those around me?
Perhaps, people who are close perish
Is there such a thing as eternity?
A place where I can meet with my love, I wish

But when does it become a crime
To be with thy self, to leave love?
Myself is the only one I can trust not to skip time
What crime is this of?

There are whispers in the night
That condemn being alone;
Rather than a crash in the light
I’d be without the unknown

I’d rather be with the rustling of the wind
Or the whispers from the night
Oh, but have I sinned
Wishing to be alone in my sight?

Mayhap I’ll die a thousand deaths
Rather it be, than feel the loss
Rather I’d have a heart of stone
Than ever have come across
The fine beauty that stole my heart
Then ran into death and broke it
Now, though alone, I live like a small part
Of the person I once was before, I admit

The Darkness
It is the hole in my chest where my heart once was
But what is this Darkness that I am with alone?
It has no shape, nor a form to do what it does
Is this Darkness the absence of the beauty of my own?

Or is this Darkness me?
In a way I can see myself in its black abyss
It is plain to see that this Darkness is me
In being alone, I will now find bliss

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