It hurts more than ever
No mater how strong the pain,
it just keeps hurting more and more
and even when it repeats itself,
again and again,
it hurts!
Pain!
There's no dying, not realistically,
but falling, grieving, and the aches of one's essence covered by unheeded truths
To keep on dying... To keep on trying...
and maybe breathing...
No matter how hurtful and how painful!
Pain! Hurt! But does it mater?
It hurts more than ever,
pain, hurt, and dying?
-
No!
Truth has been spoken.
When the soul speaks the truth,
in a vacuum, approached by death,
without a meaning,
only hurt,
hurt,
and hurt.
When it's separation,
the soul evaporating,
for what it carries,
is love and truth,
but why? Tell me why,
Y O U
&
I
were and weren't,
are and aren't?!
Hast mine own soul did fail us?
In my breathing tomb, I embrace you, honor you, and see you
for I'm nothing more but acceptance that honors you
believes in you
and a child adoring you.
Hast mine own soul did fail us?
For how closer could I get to your truth? And how far deep shall I shed my existence?
My Love!
Hast mine own soul did fail us?
I'm gone, nothing, merely more than an illusion, if for you to see.
But...
Hast mine own soul did fail us?
Spoken truths that the soul carries,
and some unspoken but crushed to pieces of silence -
embraced,
surrendered,
and questioned.
That which the soul carries,
spoken,
for the value of being truthful,
and endless faith in love,
but what does it mean to keep on dying?
To believe and accept the hurt
Dying, every moment of a silent and permanent death
A
concealed death
A
voiceless suffering
A
hurting soul
A
repeating experience
Again,
and Again!