Tomorrow is indeed another day yet yesterday still happened the effortless evaluation standing high. The difference being a significant dominator – ambition. The prize is to be all the more bitter sweet if presented by the losing team. To gaze upon them in such saccharine sympathy worn on my face, an eyeless mask. The act of contemplation and exaggeration both present in equal measures to be discarded and humiliated by coequal foes and demanding friends.
How blind are the eyes that tomorrow can see, yet how clear yesterday sees tomorrow. A deaf ear hears the pain, the regret and always the sorrow.
The past dictates at a wicked rate, to forge, conspire and accumulate the songs ill not sing tomorrow but truly heard yesterday are promised to be sung in the past. When considered and loved it always shows that the lyrics were wrong anyway.
In an hour or less ill sway to a different beat the notes will find their way from my head and to my feet to carry me away from this tale of woe. To paint an image of happiness...
Unease is heavy and doubt high. I'll never close the door opened too many times. Never can I stop myself from walking through the creaking frame once more.
This time was the last, I have sworn to myself of that. I am not trapped in a prison of stone and metal. I am not encased in a pitch black fog, of with entering results in being digested slowly by supernatural being of pitiful sorts.
I am not blind to the outside world - just walking passed closed curtains that blindfold cracked panes of glass and splintered wood.