That primal taste in your mouth,
You see the words on the wall,
You know they won't return,
You taste blood but you haven't mourned enough.
Bite harder, the pain, the pain, the pain.
The adrenal glands clear your mind,
I've got a mind
To see this end in a mourning of my own.
The heat rises in the cheeks.
This is intensity,
An emotional high.
The sacrifices we make to know that we know
More than happiness,
A hollow lie to sooth our fears,
Mental wounds ripped open so the infection can set in.
What our body cannot endure,
The mind receives,
Trembling hands given their dues and condolences,
Trembling eyes gifted with lies and invention.
Like Gatsby, confined in the trappings
Of our own misery,
Our past.
To live is to suffer, for life is filled with loss.
But know no lies. Those lost are not made
Heroes anew for their life as memory.
T'is our own selfish pain that holds them so high,
A greedy punishment to give us self worth.
