This Disease

Close up, ripped apart this heart I manage to break from the start.

My wounds are concealed, concealed to the essence of a fallen tragedy.

Imagine this blade it cuts through air, this blade of love so tame and so rare.

Grounding from the sky these tears they fall with lies.

Drowning in this sorrow I can only stare through cries. Long and fast this life goes on.

Trifled images of a dying tomorrow seem to scatter on. Like a photograph the memories they fade.

Inch by inch closer to the blade.

My burning pain that weakens knees, granting me the salvation to fall with heartless dreams.

Your eyes they see straight through me like a window of endless concern.

You can see the pain inside yet its hopeless ease the burn.

Theres no escaping this deriving spin, the final wishes of love and hate, the evil that stays within.

It drives me to the edge an emotion so intense and real.

It makes those so strong to keep up to the point where they cannot feel.

Can you give me your hand? Your hand till the end? Can you give me your strength?
Your strength to help me mend?

Live in me and see my fate. Feel my emotion that strives to create.

The abyss cannot allow my soul to find the cure to life.

It will not help my dreams of love carve beauty with a knife.

Instead it rips me part, and lets my life fall through.

Straining with torment I'm looking back at you.

Through the window you seem to gaze.

My face struck with sorrow and pain.

You are my cure that i cannot contain.