I will not speak of foreign lands, of the fears of other hidden worlds
I will not speak of foreign lands, of the fears of other hidden worlds,
But I will sing of the red eyes of envy, flames that burn in silence,
Of the sharp edges of broken hearts, carving dreams,
Of the poison born from them, the spiral of madness that lures us.
The twisted thoughts of the aimless, an unseen burden,
The cursed twin of society's expectations, a deceptive mask,
Hiding under the skin of the refined, a snake with golden feathers,
Voices that freeze your blood, yet are sweetened with honey,
Polished with the butter of appearances so you won’t see the wolf behind them.
Oh, the world is full of horrors, why seek them in distant lands?
When here, in our hearts, shadows dance, and the sky darkens,
Why search for monsters afar, when we carry them hidden beneath our skin?
Our world is a theater of shattered dreams, curtains of silence,
A place where fear takes deep root, and courage becomes a memory,
Where smiles are wax masks, melting under the warmth of truth,
Why venture into the unknown when horrors haunt us here?
For beneath every closed eyelid, beneath every sigh and breath,
Lies a realm of shadows, of illusions, and extinguished hopes,
And in a world where every step is the echo of a silent scream,
Why leave what we know to seek something else?
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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