Emotions
There
is a way in life
Where
anger overtakes the soul and pitiful hints of the mind try to piece together
Something
that will never form.
It
is afraid and I am afraid
I
cannot say and it cannot say.
Why
oh why do these trytiptical words not make sense
Because
they are not words
They
are not words
But
things that don’t make sense are nothing but the lucid horror of things that
cannot be helped
The
human bean is but full of these and cannot live without it
But
to become monsters of the dark gloomy mists
The
darkest shades of night
There
loom something, someone, its lingering taunts
If
these tyrannical rules do not break, there is fear, and fear can be felt
Not
heard or touched
Not
seen or spoken,
But
felt like the smooth rough surface of felt.
It
is fortunate for most but unfortunate for a few fiends or friends,
Soon
the thoughts may consume, but
Not
yet
Not yet
Not yet.
