The Brightest Deception
Scarlet romantic aura permeates
the essence of my being, a feeling half
incomprehensible to my own psyche.
Waiting beneath the soft, silky embrace of candlelight,
hope is weeded out as if a bountiful tree spontaneously
I fall, fall, fall away
and I cannot help clutching emptiness...
hollowness grows deeper, darker, breathless.
An afterimage of white noise extends its inky tendrils,
silhouettes cut me, glistering abyss,
seeping its claws,
into my skin.
Into my chest, drowning me.
Glancing from left to right, looking up and down,
peering upon the secretive nooks of the haunted
house of my mind.
Waiting beneath the bitter blight of static glare,
I am greeted by a familiar stranger.
The stranger pays me a glance with a weary face
like that of a disoriented, distorted jester,
or perhaps a solemn, silent, lurking spectre.
This cannot go on - no,
I strictly forbid it.
Falling, the blinding, roaring rift
rips the chilling surface clinging beneath
falling, falling, falling,
this isn't my fate,
dangling by a scarlet thread.
Lies are cast upon you
as to how brightly the light
encapsulated within the other side
radiates. Human yearning.
Deceptions that serve demons,
deceptions unravelled when the
soft, silky lustre illumines -
for every light casts a shadow,
and every light hatches
as the offspring of darkness.
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