The dagger used to carve out a heart shaped figure is the same one to pierce it to the core of its soul.
Why hold on to something that you should let go of?
Something as estranged as the weather.
Mortality so severe but blunder,
from sleepless nights to loss of appetite.
Everything you knew is simply a mere mirage.
Dodging the signs left and right.
To you the future was just so bright.
In a scene from a Mobster’s story,
Searching for that one thing that gave you glory,
Though everything was just so blurry.
Prayer after prayer, chance after chance, what else did you have left to do.
As time pressed on your intuition grew stronger,
Fond of what the reality was,
Stubbornness took over and benefits of the doubt clouded your judgement,
Going from the biggest players in the game,
To just a measly chess piece in relation to a pawn.
It wasn’t until the dawn of one too many sleepless nights of tossing and turning that
you decided to bring the facts to your accuser.
Once again you played it off as a simplistic matter.
But you grew wiry and divided,
Lost in translation,
You are just a slave to the plantation of misjudgment.