Heed my own advice, I did not.
Haunted by reality. Entangled in my own words. (Written on a placard in dust.)
I sought for truth in an idea.
An insatiable idea with a porcelain mask.
The same mask that sat in roses, and was worn by royalty, kissed by a ruby lipped enchantress and fitted for a princess upon a lake.
I did it again.
My life; a Greek tragedy, a German romance, an Indian folk tale.
Fears grips me.
I see a road off at a distance and I know where it leads.
Sword in hands.
Tooth on nail.
The bitter sweet taste of defiance.
I walk away.
I must push it away as I have done.
I ought to go back to a simpler time.
The Stone Age
The days where the seeds were hopeless visions and I nothing more than an aspiring fool.
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