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.: E Ether Depraved, Repressed, Feelings
Distress

Those ethereal choirs of sadness I keep hearing in my mind
Always driving their rusted vises deep within the core of my atrophied conscience
Overlaying the abysmal revolt within, with a cloak of frost and silence
A revolt against life, hope, beauty and everything that stands behind happiness and love
I cannot really explain why, I just feel I'm not part of anything positive in this world
That doesn't mean I seek to be that way, I wage a permanent inner-war
With no winning side

I've always been too emotional, I used to be totally rampaged by events that most humans would normally ignore or just laugh about
Then the events themselves started to lose their importance when I realized they didn't triggered the exact same linear emotions/reactions as before

This has however bestowed an apprehension of the laws transcending my life, inherent to surrounding universal laws as well as a projection of external hostile acts against myself and the associated theorical reactions I could possibly feel at that precise time, call it paranoid if you will.

The question: Am I truly a depressive, desperate person?
The answer: No

Just a lost/confused child at hearth that never understood the world he was part of,
Still living the weight of dead dreams undying
Mentally recreating everything as he sees fit as well as amplifying the stench of human misery, be it sickness, hate, violence and cruelty bred by our own de(generation) to quench is thirst of emotional bursts needed to balance his own sensibility

Distress; an inverted deafening howling of helplessness
Echoing endlessly within the mind of those who sees
Through life, as starring a mirror without any reflection
As being a shadow without any light
External interactions which seems to lose significance
Daily venturing on the verge of madness and/or murder
Everything becomes pieces of a (w) hole, defined by my needs

What could be worst than this force fed, repressive, oppression
When you feel your head is going to explode
And you desperately wish someone could connect with you
Just for a fraction of time, and share the burden of those depressive stirs
You quickly realize that you drown most peoples with the weight of your thoughts
Then for a brief moment you feel relieve to see the impact of your own nightmare
Crashing down the fragile barricades of surrounding serenity
Imposing your world to forge its credibility

But in the end that wasn't the point, and you quickly realize that you
Annoy everyone when trying to dig out your own depraved, repressed feelings
This leads you to wonder what first motivated you in meeting other humans
When their entertaining role ends, and true help is required

No one's interested by who you really are, and how much energy you spoil
In your struggle to keep a glimpse of hope alive
What matters them, is your charisma, attractiveness and/or entertaining features

I myself cannot deny that fact
That is quite horrible when you realize the full extent of that simple observation

I know I wrote this a thousand times before
But creating nullifies a part of useless concerns
You have already woken up thousands of times in your life, and being aware of that won't enable you to stop the need to sleep
What I feel is infinite

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