Ver

When you say you feel for me
you do create illusions.

When you don't say anything
I feel like drowning in pure air.

Suffocation anywhere and not a chance to breathe.
Declarations, non-issues, labels and conclusions.

Damage, doubt and liberty,
hurt and bled me even there.

Judgement, judgement everywhere,
nor a spot to breathe.

Courtesy, gods and déjà-vu,
myths of shadows' heartless care.

You'd whisper any other name
and prune what might just wreathe.

No gods are sacred, never were,
as I've been well aware.

Unsigned

The idle candle lit will burn
the dust of futile ages' waste.

The difference of a match's nudge
the light renews that had long ceased.

The heat renewed will stronger grow
the longer it's allowed to be.

The spark therefrom will fall to burn
the foreign ground, infernal blaze.