so feed us all
another lie,
to steal our thoughts,
appease our pride,
so we wont have
to change the way we see, we live, we love, we die,
our lust precedes
our blasphemy,
our logic reads
like notes from tainted autopsy.
our souls they speak of something more,
but we cant look beyond ourselves.
we implore empty skies because
our hearts hold room for no one else,
we extend our
claws to grasp at shadows of the
ideals we have,
lost causalities of a subtle dagger,
buried to the
hilt in our hearts, blood on our hands.
That was an excerpt from the song "A Subtle Dagger" by Thrice. Why do I feel like I live a life of lies? I am not true to myself, I have such little passion, true passion that is in my heart. Where is my love?
If you read this, don't draw the conclusion that my life is only characterized by typical Livejournal/Blog/Teen Angsty Emo-ness. It isn't but I often come here when I feel broken.
Aren't we all broken?
Aren't we beyond repair?
Is there no passion in our hearts?
Is there a ray of hope?
You shape the lens with which you see life.
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