See it as this,
so alluring,
a bind that can’t be broken,
holding and engraving unsure,
with jagged cuts,
a symbol that stands for something,
on your skin,
in your mind,
seen when you sleep,
haunting and welcoming,
this meaning is to you,
giving nothing else of it,
yet it remains as it is,
what else could it leave,
become on the impressive spoken words,
of oneself,
when it sight of it,
lies farther down than just,
a lack of shanty gold tint of,
of losing freedom,
that’s what it is,
but again you speak on and on,
getting where of it all,
in a must go on way,
following a beat one made for oneself,
what to do,
oh what to do,
on that lone score,
pacing back and forth,
where on were the wary voices speak of,
in believing and not,
know on the hard moments in life,
that’s just sadly how things,
become so ironic,
to where it hurts,
yet near the end of it all,
you’ll never be something of symbol of the next great idol,
are you saying you are better than Jesus,
nothing is holding you back in doing so,
but also remember there is surpassing it,
and becoming it,
which in seeing it as now,
there is only you,
living up a symbol pushed on you,
because the ideals to do something,
were mixed up,
in that message,
for that you want to be become or be seen as,
are two different things,
and the answer in that,
goes to who found themselves,
not others.




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