Lethe to Lie
by Possum


In your mind you live to die,
And yet I die to live.
How this is I know not why
For nothing's more to give.

Life sucks life from life itself--
A paradox of violence reaps.
Much like a toy upon a shelf
Collecting dust forevermore,
Whilst a child, in silence, weaps
For happiness of childish lore.

If his search for bliss hath end,
The path towards death is more unsure,
For as there is our timely friend
To take from lonely souls their heart,
Joy alone is never pure;
'Tis merely more to tear apart.

If he finds his happy home;
He finds his everlasting health,
His mind will wander; heart will roam
To take the path he's left undone.
With a store of empty wealth,
His journey will have just begun.

Troubles plenty he shall find,
Along the road he'll venture far.
And all within his lonely mind,
Defiled by corruptive thoughts,
Searching for a fallen star,
Unsettled calmness slowly rots.

Losing all he's longed to gain,
He tosses all his cares away
And finds the long, regretful pain
Among the simple, selfish fears
Rest upon another day
To complement his weaker years.

At once, he learns he's but a shell
Without a soul to give.
Death would seem a painful hell
So now he dies to live.