Heartless

Is a child destined to be evil?

Or created as a product of purity?

The ill fate I question may become my tragedy.

To be soaked in newborn ashes yet clothed in righteousness.

To provide for my family yet be resoundingly heartless.

I ponder how do I make this distinction to outsiders?

To provide love and care for those who bleed the same.

Yet neglect the external who surround your circle.

As the curtain envelops the shadows with the welcoming of dusk,

I entrap the light within the cusp of the window.

A blurry vision of what is happiness and what is loneliness.

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As the curtain shields me from the burning rays of light and curses me with the blessing of disguise.

I poison myself with the mythical nature of cries.

Why are you crying?

When you do not know the meaning to love another who does not share your flock?

I do not know.

Empathy is what I desire.

Yet manipulation consumes my hunger.

I seek to become the hero of the north.

To be with the nature of good upon this cylindrical curse.

And so I look to the sky to come forth.

A coloured picture glaring down on a colourless being.

Asking him,

Would you cultivate yourself to be built on feelings.

To mould yourself as a human being.?

He responds,

I may consume this drug in every ounce of life.

But I will look out from the fissure, to gaze upon my sides.

And the emptiness within....

With comfort.