Just listen to them.

The way they talk.

Butterflies die, when we take our evening walks.

Not possession,
This is simply obsession.

That’s why you can never

Break my hollow heart.

They love me.

Just me.

And I’ll lead them into this sallow dimension,

If they keep just one promise;

That when it’s over, they really will

Reveal to me the treasure their aura still conceals.

This is the beautiful truth,

That beneath their vibrant, overwhelming shroud of twisted pleasure,

Is hidden a healing heart.

That cannot break.

This is not so demonic.

This is only a promise,

That I will make these impressions

On their behalf.

And the veil will be lifted.

The burial, undone.

That I may know, at last, what I was born to rediscover-

The nature of my own true self.

I just have to help them to let go.

I just have to help them find a way.

I have to teach them.

But they love me.

And they multiply, as time goes on.

Falling in love, and bonding with a heart

That cannot break.

Reproducing with new inspirations and experiences,

Creating new Darklings, to swarm and protect the Source;

The heart that cannot break.

 Not as long as they squeeze it tight, in their gaseous grasp.

This is not dementia,

This is respectful

Acknowledgment of the fundamental

Rules of movement I’ve chosen to take.

I will set them loose

Into the Darkling’s Parade…

And this heart will be


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