Emotions oceans, our own bad magic potions,
a tragic curse we are well versed to converse with.
Though could we? Should we? And what if we did,
chance to dance the dance to advance…..
Morals descending, pretending never ending,
always on the edge, preparing for defending.
We are isolated, divided, ego and pride derided,
conscience dying from lying, ducking and diving,
our true selves hiding behind solitude when seeking solace.
Under sufferance of silence our minds distorting, resorting,
to anarchy and violence. Feelings divorce us, enforce us,
on our self destructing course for us.
It’s unashamedly the same old story,
though many more more gory, we seek glory!?
Moving in a whirlwind of whirling circles where deception
is considered the essence of pure discretion.
For our own protection, it’s time for a complete confession.
We crave absolution to save us from utter desolation,
though it doesn't seem all that appealing to be revealing past misdemeanours,
who does it impress if we dress for success but secretly suppress
the stress this mess has left us? We must confess!
Assess the assignations of our self assassinations, with patience.
Or sink, to the rock bottoms of emotion oceans of our own creations.