i fell victim to a different kind of death.
a death of pride.
i no longer care about you.
i no longer look for your coinsidences
i am dead to you in a grave of self confidence
i am in
a grave of expression
a tomb of silent ideas that i love and will pray for
it happened really slowly.
it was more like a
man walking middle eastern sand dunes
one day he is caught in a snare — a pool of quick sand
but he has no idea because it is slow sinking
he struggles to get out. but the more he moves
the more he sinks. so he decides to move slowly
thinking mistakenly that his speed is what made
him sink. he moves in one direction, thinking his
turns and direction is making him sink.
he stops everything he knows until he falls victim
i sense your opinions but i do not care. they mean the world
to me, a world that i hope to never return.