The Swansong For the Forelorn

 

Many, many moons ago I devoted you all I had

With a simple promise of new light, new happiness, new life.

But the darkness fell upon us with a single blast

With the unfaithful pleasure, with the pure lust.

In the middle of fake joy and passion, I got lost,

You could say I was completely blind.

Many, many moons ago I decided with a heavy heart

That it all was my fault, it was my demise.

But I refused to believe how a person can pretend

For so long unnoticed as if I was the only one playing this sad tango.

With all of my pure intentions, I believed that one can change…

All they need was to love them harder,

As if I breathe for two not one, as if I dream for two, as if it was enough.

…

Many, many moons ago I have granted the permission

To someone so beloved and he destroyed me.

And I hated how that person made me feel, how unwanted I was.

Many, many moons ago my joyful self was stained with shame

And turned down the flame of the cheerful being!

Drowned in sorrow,

Poisoned with lies,

Completely forlorn,

Left in pain...

…

Now many moons and suns have passed,

My soul has changed.

Now the light is gone for good,

I have turned it into a blackness,

Demons roam around my soul,

They called it eternal pleasure house,

My hell has turned into a comfy home,

No one else tortures, I command.

No angels are allowed, it’s an emotional desert.

And curses are my poetry of long forgotten love,

There is no desire to turn it back to what is used to be.

Let me bring back your nightmares as you have helpfully done to me.

…

Don’t say you feel sorry, emotions like this are like a weed for your well-being.

Don’t say you feel sorry, because we both know you are not.

In the end what used to be my weakness is now your eternal hell.

I can dance on your feelings like a feather lost its course

But in the end, I am the one winning the stupid love game.

I see through your deception as if I have made it for you

Now your strengths are your weaknesses 

And I am the one who call the quit.

The Performace

 

When the curtains fall and the light hits the stage,

Don’t get nervous, let the show begin.

Perform like you never did, put on all masks.

First start with the face you have created for the happiness

You have never felt but faked as a masterpiece.

They have never grown to love it – make them angry.

Then switch to the sad face they adore,

Leave it there for a while, make them feel they won.

A good performance shows the face of the man given up,

Fallen victim of somebody’s dirty schemes.

Keep performing even if it’s hard, this stage is unusual.

It’s time to shift from pain to pleasure,

Show them so called slutty face, make them feel uncomfortable

For all the caused shame, for every gossip they have created

Keep giving them the lust blazing in your eyes.

And finally don’t forget to give them Hell,

Realize their scariest nightmares, make them feel insane.

Keep playing they are now your puppets,

Pull the strings even harder, you hold them in your palm.

Let them feel the tears shed when no one was around,

Let them feel the wounds they have inflicted,

Let them pay you every walk of pain.

Let them taste the bitterness of their pill.

Let them feel the weakness, let them feel incomplete.

But you are not a monster; you are not like them.

You are the fantasy of their sick and twisted minds,

You are projection of their deepest desires,

You are torturer, the head demon of their inner Hell.

I am not the same as I used to be

 

I am not the same as I used to be.

I evolved to a new breed – cunning and cold.

I am not the same as I used to be,

I turned into a piece of ice –  beautiful and fragile,

But in nature what looks delicate is the vicious killer,

Merciless soul, no heart, pure surviving skills.

I am not the same as I used to be,

I remember the painful past,

The glimpses of the blinding light,

The forbidden darkness’ kisses,

The exhausting talks with the inner demons,

And the quarrels with the angels weak.

I can truly guarantee history won’t repeat itself,

I remember everything.

I keep the tokens of the previous lives,

I relieve the hidden memories every time I close my eyes.

…

My body keeps aching when I go back to those moments,

Vivid paintings of an artist unknown.

My soul vibrates with the sorrows and laughs from the past times of what I used to be,

She is no more – just a shadow lurking behind my back.

Her voice is so distant, never comes any closer.

Her music is that nostalgic sound from what is left behind,

I can barely hear the melody composed in the moments of unwanted weakness.

…

I am not the same as I used to be,

The heart is hardening; noone I believe.

The loneliness of past tense is the wanted present friend.

The future is unsure; why should I worry?

The darkness of the fragile mind and the innocence forgotten long ago

Keep creating moving stories, filling eyes with tears.

I am not the same as I used to be,

My angel and my demon merged into one face

And that face is ME.

Nothing

 

In the privacy of my own room, I close the heavy eyes

The blackness follows…fully blind.

Raging storms outside,

Inside my heart - emotional gale.

Tears and rain drops are falling in sync again,

The War of elements is ramping inside and out.

My wounded soul is roaming lonely

Around the forgotten graveyard of painful thoughts.

The storm outside is over, the sun comes up.

However, my internal night is here, cold moonshine.

The Loneliness and the Darkness, my old friends

Joining forces till my bitter end.

I feel like I am dying, same old cycle,

Same old me, same old feelings,

Never-ending insecurities, mentally exhausted

Physically still good me.

 ...

The burden is too heavy, no one understands.

Or maybe the illusionist in me

Is very well equipped to present my alternative reality.

Or maybe I am too good painter, using all the palettes too well

That the picture I have created is not looking like well curated facade.

Or maybe the composer in me used the best notes

To create the hypnotizing song to confuse all living souls.

 ...

I am neither sad nor happy,

I am neither tired nor well- rested,

I am neither all nor nothing,

I am neither good nor bad…

It’s just all those feelings buried deep inside.

Emptiness is neither curse nor blessing,

Black-and-white does not exist,

It’s all a matter of my own perception

Accompanied with a pinch of grief.

11 Months

 

Eleven months of the year, I bottle up my feelings inside,

Eleven months of the year, I am okay, I am fine.

Eleven months of the year, the walls are up high,

Eleven months of the year, I don’t hear the monsters’ whispers.

Eleven months of the year, I love the coldness of my heart,

Eleven months of the year, I love the rational acts.

…

But there is still that one month, I keep reminding myself

That I am a creature of emotions, I let them unleashed.

This one month the year, I beat myself down

For what I chose to abandon, for what I left behind.

That one month of the year, my inner hell takes over me,

That one month of the year, monsters keep coming in.

That one month of the year is the harshest punishment I get,

That one month of the year is my strength test, over and over again.

That one month of the year, I keep reliving my nightmares.

That one month of the year, my fears keep me company.

That one month of the year, I am besides myself,

That one month of the year is the scariest one.

….

Eleven months of the year, I am joyful from the outside.

Eleven months of the year, I am wreck from the inside.

Eleven months of the year, I am the mannequin - gorg and fun;

Eleven months of the year, I am peace before storm, sea of calm.

….

All twelve months are amazing, seasons rotating, ups and downs.

Only my year is different – extreme blackness and blinding shine.