We talk about you under the tall towers of your skepticism
In that shadow that you cast We gather and bathe in the eye you turn blind It’s cool and soft in your ignorance Peaceful, even, if we allow ourselves to Acknowledge it We are always speaking Wrapped around our tongues Spilling out and dancing with each other Words cascade over our heads and drip Delicately into the fires we nurture That is how we stay so warm down here Rarely do I catch us looking up There is nothing for us there Up there, there is only those bleeding eyes So convinced everyone sees the same They assume even their assailant Gazed upon them through a view of red It is lonely It is never acknowledged For if we believe it It will shape into something worse Something worse than the dying fires Something worse than the cold Something worse than the bleeding eyes Something more than death Beyond the ceasing of existence But more like the absence of its memory We are seen as nothing Our ideas become nothing We are nothing So we don’t acknowledge it So we keep building our fires So we keep speaking So we let our words sharpen to thorns Planting a ladder into the moist soil And we wait for it to grow Those, up there They will see our creation one day They will see it through their bleeding eyes One day We will not only climb that tower But destroy it, peeling away the stone Until our fingernails are coated in crimson And we stand on ruins of jagged rock Once carved from your words just short of hatred We will wrap your injured sight with the honey That grows from our lips And we will be someone We are lonely We are progress and we lay the bricks For the road that follows that large clock Hanging above our heads like a dinner bell Death will feast on us all You before us But we will not let those behind Fall beneath new towers We are lonely We are young We will be someone ∎
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