【✏cφβer ρsφchσ

There was a world beyond, access to the acceptance of paradise,

I couldn’t find the path to that access,

I couldn’t reach the paradise where you had left your smile upon.

I lost it, by all the fallaciousness.

Redeeming the lost is a longer process,

I should know this, yet I couldn’t face it,

Saying goodbye to the laughter, bursting out the happiness I’d ever had.

On the atlas where I threw the dice,

I strayed too far from that paradise,

I still hear the symphony with an amiable yet distant voice,

I realized

The reality was too far from my paradise.

The world beyond was your beautiful mind.

Chocking on my twenty-second cigarettes,

Indulging my consciousness into this reminiscence,

That has permeated through my every concept.

I see your face, I hear your voice.

Irony, turned my detachment into an excruciating lie.

Goodbye my paradise.

-----------------------------------

ps, thanks for taking the best from the worst of me

hearing symphony with a great distance

                                        where i couldnt locate the fading voice

                                         from the atlas on which i threw the dice

                                                                             thts probably all about it

-  

either the red rose or the white one,desires to b the cinnabrain mark or the delightful moonlight for sum1,yet eventually both f em end up to b either the blood of clapped mosquitos or the grain of rice tht inexorably doomed to b wasted...this current resemles in either the present or the past n probably for the rest of human existence...

during the yr throu a cyncism pov,i backslided into sumwhere unexpected n there i felt like home,where ppl kne how to listen n they could hear, where ppl looked at u n could c ur mind,where u can call em frens yet not pals cuz likewise,i saw a mirror everytime i looked into you...o' my dearest frens,u brought my life into the dreamin utopia tht couldnt b measured by size...

now am bek here,surrounded by vulgar souls with pretty cloth

now am bek here,refuted by specious ppl under their spacial hall

so the quiver let me kno

heirarchical polysyllables interrogate

with the strivin trepidation advocates

fatuous zealots suffocate

by their vanishin souls,conqured by their sins n sorrows

wherease the endemic is ubiquitous

our plausible utopia only exisits for geinus of the madness...

claptrap bigots with their clanedestine sabotage

for the ultimate utopia, u r all bogus