Minus the silence

Self anticipation
ideologies are my bedsheets
why do i search for pain when i get hurt?
the lost open door with no more creaks
a crack in the wall with infinite possibilities
my window sill is just my breach from a cell
past remnants from my present
if lies could tell the truth
give me answers while telling me nothing
i climb a shape in the middle of open space
blackness,i make it to the top
a life's goal but nothing is there
emptiness is something as secure as love