A world can be lost in it's translation.

Not the words uttered.

But the words shouted in one's mind.

Lost in another translation,

And trashed in the thoughts of another.

Expending energy to find one's way,

Only to lose oneself in the misting relevancy

That doesn't exist.

We are taught to believe what we see,

But illusions are more deadly

And shoot better than any weapon we are given.

Take aim and miss the mark.

We were told the mark was another.

We end up shooting for their mind games,

And we kill for their purposes.

But do it all in earnest of believing it's in our best interest.

Our eyes are blackened to firey coal.

Used up for all the spark we got left.

And when the glittering gold dies out

We are tossed to the sea of irrelevance

And indifference for another world to come.

Take aim and miss the mark.

This time, logic interferes with the heart.

The heart twists and turns, trying to escape its mutilation.

But it dies during the battle.

Hardened over with a sense of prestige.

The sensual escapades of the mind.

Its allure more vibrant then that of a soul.

Drawn to the lying b****** that calls itself fate.

Who spits you back out at any sign of weariness.

And kills you for interference.

Come back to what once was,

The world that was only an original, not another.

Walk through the mist for your own translation,

Don't fall to the words of another.

Take aim and miss the mark.

Because you'd only be killing another.