cold.passion

Lend me support, which I seek.

Break that wall of glass and liberate what’s inside, aching for salvation.

It dies slowly when left abandoned, but never loosen up on that string, never let go.

It sees, but never seen.

Far away, closer to veins.

With agony it reminds, for that you should be warned.

The demon inside, should you always feel it sting.

Of no human, masked with one, YOU! God bless your soul.

Eager to touch, to morph and take control of what is left; the life you lead.

A man’s heart should always be filled not; it has to be left with void within after the farewell. A state of misdirection occurs when too much is held without a moment of emptiness.

He becomes delirious, distracted, and creates another ego, immersed in deceit so much even the most vital moral principles are erased, someone who he cannot control. A burden to whom he really is, complicating the essentials of his once been called daily routine, he turns into a vague entity not even his most beloved could decrypt, not even his self can contain.

To open his chest, and let go he cannot opt for another choice, or it shall destroy that fragile psyche underneath, for an instance it feels so weak, but the process in inevitable. It is the seeking of an intimate gesture that frees what’s within, enough to keep the inside as solid as the exterior.

A woman’s heart beats faster, thus, making it weaker by theory, but a man’s heart is never strong, it loves in a blink of an eye, and cherishes it till ashes are all what’s left from it. When it breaks it’s hardly mended but a scare always remains, we fool our selves that time cures, but there’s always a time when those scares are opened, the moment unveils when it can’t take it no more, and that’s why a man’s heart should always be filled not.