This very well be ended in tears, O dearest, O loveliest. You do know that.
It maybe my insanity or my Lord actually told me that this won't end well. I'll be the one Die Trying.
I hate it. But eventually I know I'll accept it. For now, My Dearest, My Loveliest, accept that your one and only will be a major side-eye collectors. If we are to be rich by the number of that being given, we should be a gazillionaire. But Alas, no market demand in that. We're cash-flow negative since we're paying the pride price. Eventually it will drop to zero. Sorry. My bad.
Why me? Why do I do this? I hate you my Lord. With purest hate that can possibly exist in this dying world. Why not them? They're better looking. They're smarter. They're richer. They're luckier.
Little by little, I'm left with no pride. And you, my Lord, still kept the blood flowing, this heart still beating, the rage is still on, ever increasing chips on my shoulder. Still walking here, same old dusty shoes. Still showing this face. Everyday facing the same enemy staring back in the mirror - older wearier eyes, thinner hair, more wrinkles.
For who? Nam qui? Para que?
Dearest, Loveliest, is it for you? The ideal that never exist. He may have been one of Camille Claudel's broken statues - once lovingly crafted "by my naked hand" - she said. Shattered to pieces by her own naked hand again.
Darkness maybe my friend. Darkness never a good friend for ladies. Not for human consumption. Ladies should be good, full of light, warmest creature, full of prayer, never lost in hope. Never question. Always need to forget. Forget the Lord never help the mother with 7 sons in Maccabees. Also got to pretend Maryknoll Sisters ever exist and suffer in El Salvador - apparently there exist no savior.
But my heart knew, this is a cruel God we're talking about. And we're slave to his ideal. Thus obey, my people, until the day end. We're in this together.
a0z0ra @ 11:20 PM  |