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i opened up to you and you judged me


Marisa Kirisame-ze

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you asked me to describe my mind,
and already i could see that you’d misunderstand.
there are two spectrums in here, when 
you only belong to 
one.

 

there are shadows dancing on the edges of walls,
and my name being whispered subconsciously.
i’m sure i’m not thinking it myself, and sometimes
i convince myself into believing i’m a romantic
schizophrenic.

 

i personify death, as if he’s an old friend of mine, 
and i think of him more often than i’d like to admit.
he watches me dearly, counting the ticking minutes, and
i care for him, as he does for me. i don’t fear his pull, 
for sometimes i think he’s unable to grasp me as a whole, 
and i may never see 
heaven nor hell.

 

but my mind isn’t only a graveyard, filled with 
illness and absurdities, and i tend to only voice when
the sun radiates through, shining light against the
oceans that flow against my skull. 

 

i see everything in such an angelic aura, and even
the greatest of demons would be trophied and loved
in the depths of my mind. hate is an unknown concept
and love - my god - love is all too comfortable here.

 

i fantasize about the greatness of the earth, and the
spirituality that guides me along the shapeshifting plains,
and how much i long for the sky, with it’s moonstruck gaze.

 

i tend to go crazy in all the goodness i see amongst others
and their ghosts, and it’s especially frightening to
speak of such passion towards someone 
who thinks of this as 
nonsense.

 

but i shall for you anyways, and try to make you see,
i’m conflicted in my own head because i belong so much
to darkness, but can only see in light.

i walk along the ends of two spectrums, never to find my
place, and i don’t need you to nod your head
as if you
understand.

 

((for i don’t even undersand myself))

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