Problems hidden in my torn past, a peril
there is aching for my return. A rule wishes to bestow itself upon my well
endowed now. An unstoppable force which thrives to claim it all, once more. A
seduction very easy to let myself to it, habitually, not willingly. Cages are
meant for an escape, not for melancholy, not for now. So I let her stay there,
on a pedestal of pure light that I’ve built once for her, out there in the
forgiven miseries of my naked past; forgiven, but never forgotten. She’s safer
there, in the yesterdays of myself. And yesterday never comes back.
I’m that guilty occult preacher with a lot
of weight on my despicable conscience, for I’ve done wrong; it felt good, but
it was wrong. Sins are always only a matter of opinion, especially in the basis
of myself, where morals are bent with deranged logic of what’s left of my
sanity. And here is where I stand now, in this lavish spring of my fresh
breath; I’m safer here, with my eyes set on my tomorrows… and tomorrow always
comes.
