Endless Creation Forever

Some wept, some cheered the supposed death of the King. Some believe he was buried alive. Some believe he died in his sleep.  The truth is unknown wether he was dead or alive at the time of burial.  Ancient druids of old buried the King with his battle sword and crown, never to return again…Unless hope is restored to the Kingdom of which the King had built with his bare hands Some pray for the return of the King but there are those who believe he will never return and that he will never rise from the dead.   Earth to earth, to ashes, dust to dust. 

Tears in his eyes, red faced and overcome with a heart breaking sadness.  Fuelled by a crimson jealousy, a mind so destructive and full of hate. A conscious desire to slaughter anyone who would take her from him. A love that became so sour and full of terror. Emotions overwhelming, riddled with fear, he started an apocalypse.

Like a fever dream, he looks into the mirror and laughs uncontrollably and hysterically. Blood dripping down his face, eyes swollen and an infected smile. Violently laughing at himself, twisting his head round.  His eyes dazed and closer to a psychotic episode. Finally, he's alone.  Unstable and unhinged. He looks at the blade, covered in violence, tears and heartbreak.  He wants to kill again. 

The walls are talking.  They speak of blasphemy, lies and propaganda.  They attempt to smother my mind with the lies and untruths that celebrate my downfall.  It's sickening, this feeling in my heart. Is it neglect? Is it breaking? Is my heart being placed under a new disregard?  These walls shovel this blastphamous ideal like a patriot. It feels like i'm drowning in a river of pessimistic ideas.  I have to break free of these patterns before it destroys me and all that i have created.  How do i overcome this? How do i move on from these unwanted patterns?  All i know is broken patterns. Yet to finalise myself with successful patterns.  Will i snap out of it? Or will i continue to break? 

 I have lived in many houses and had many rooms but none have felt like home.  I wonder this world trying to find my final destination.  I’m always on the go, temporary stopping at places that try and fill a void but cannot replace something I have never felt. What is home?  Is it where family lays down to rest after an endless day of slave like labour?  Is it where you bury your dreams for traditional values?  Or is it something I’ll never obtain?  I’ll just be lost, wondering the world in search of something so unattainable. 

Who knew a creative mind could be so destructive?  With one hand he looks to align the forces god's greater good  But with the other he looks to destroy it all with one fell swoop In one eye, he sees the good in all of his creations and the healthy impact it will have upon it's target  But in the other, he lusts for the burning and slaughter of his impact, creating misery and pain for those around him.  What caused this original and innovative person to become so hateful and so repugnant? A world destined to end so soon, why not be the one to end it all tonight? 

My thoughts are acting venomous once again  Poisoning my mind, they speak of lies and unhealthy emotions.  They plague me but I’m fighting back with truths and evidence to fight the venom.  I won’t let this poison kill me.  I will be the last one standing