(c) Danielle K. Fluster
November 26th, 2002 at 11:54 AM
This cycle
This never-ending cycle
As history ontinues to repeat itself...
I die each time
Each new day my limbs begin to tear from their sockets
All the drama of a new day
All the hurt, the pain, the death
I die
Once again, I die
You swallow my trust and return me with jealousy
Its bitter, cold, hard fangs sink deep into my skin each time, every day
Jealousy, the one with no regret ~ no remorse for its victims
But still I trust
I hope
Hope? The nonexistence, the false reality..?
It kills me to learn that hope the bubble bursts each time, each day
Yet I still trust, still hope
Because I love this
I love all of it..?
I feel low
Lower than the rug which wipes the feet of the terrorist
Lower than low
I am drowning
I decide to end it
Yet never have I done so, after so many deaths
Why? What saves me?
This hope
This falsehood whose very nonexistence turns me hopeless
This hope
It saves me
But it has ulterior motives?
Yes... It wants to see me suffer
After, during before each death I suffer
Again its falsehood is proved
But my love for hope is blind
I shower it with gifts as it laughs at my pain, my agony
My death
