Crimson Tears

Your presence lights up the morning like the sun but also covers me like a dense mist. Pure sunrises manifest with beauty, but with a thousand secrets hidden behind the folds of the early morning curtain.

Unattainable moments that turn the cogs of this gear that gives life to a machine which fulfills its sentence long after its turn. We become Martyrs locked in cubicles, as we await for the sacrifice to come. But you play with us; with the child who begs for freedom without knowing how much he has, and with the one who has had it taken away.

Being capable of destroying dreams and withering hopes, you are always on the lookout, so that when a young soul, or not so young, lowers its guard to then attack and imprison them in the confines of your parallel world, where time does not pass.

Everything is beautiful, until the shadows emerge. We reject the light and plunge ourselves into darkness, where human sin grows and takes over. We lose ourselves infinitely as we repeat the process forever. They say that love hurts, but if pain is this pleasant, it is worth dying for. My heart begs for mercy while my mind hands me the whip, and all because of this condition called love.

It feels like the clouds that cover the sky on rare days of dry summers. It stalks us and awaits until it’s timing is perfect to clasp its painful claws around us and make us captives with its charm. Many lose the battle, but he who overcomes it, is able to taste happiness. And while the hearts of many weep tears of crimson wine, mine spills ink onto this scroll called sanity as I struggle to find myself in a sea of impostors.