Today, I live to die.
Yesterday, I died to live.
Tomorrow is another day.
I have to hang on a thread.
As pillars of fate has crumbled.
And twilight has become my home.
I have become the very thing I hate.
Yet it is comfortable to live with.
I was the puppeteer,
Yet somehow I have become the puppet.
Half of my identity stolen,
Yet I’m still here.
I live to find my path,
To find my answer.
I feel so asphyxiated,
And you don’t answer.
You make everything sound like a tragedy.
I tell you now:
Don’t pull the strings because
Sulphur is in my blood.
My chaos; the crimson.
It falls onto the transparent floor,
For everyone to see, yet ignored.
Death is witnessed, yet passed by.
Sin has overpowered motivation.
And no longer you need a conclusion because:
You never even started a prologue.