Act 2

Act 2

Vision Flip District
This is your final warning.
Alongside the catacombs, tonight we stand restless.
With forever-forgotten words of value //
keeping us from reaching the final depths
of Despair.

“You can translate my thoughts? 

Where have you been? 

Who are you?” 

I’ve seen devils, I’ve seen many men.
I’ve seen the fall.
At first, we would believe them as rattles from the snake’s relentless tail.
Tonight I cover my scars with protection-
from the critic of yesterday.
I wake from a slumber surrounded by poison, a bed with deceit.
Previous tunes no longer fit the criteria.
A love language I fail to hold dearly during times of melancholy.
Feening for relapse; a world that never was.

“Our Glory always seems to send us to the foreign lows 
that the mind could never have perceived with the
curses of future and past mortification.
I think I will die tomorrow.”

Godfather continues to play his violin.
This designated nothing more than an addition to real mental torture.
The day he announced his treasure as Despair,
All the notions finally returned once more.
But do I dive deeper into a false mind?
The rewards are quite tempting.
Temptations even the voice of my angel couldn’t break through.
With their tempo scarce yet louder than yesterday,
the child doesn’t want to get off the swings.
In hopes of dreams where Mother fails to convince-
lack of value through presence.
We always hated it all
“Nonetheless, we still stand, don't we?”
You never fail to translate me, Amario.
From times of pleasure from conscious rot
to the days of infinite silence in hopes of being heard.
With eyes blinking like strobe lights
 fighting tears from releasing
 steam that only I can feed off of.
I once knew what luxury was, 
but wars against the critic limit my span.
Even seven thousand shots to the body weren’t enough to bring you down.
For us, a simple realization is all it takes to send an assail-
back to a full moon. 
A world that never was,
the Vision Flip District you say?
Now I need a minute- 
who would have thought a place like this exists?
Sprouts in awareness only send me 
questions that take me through more than several fights to answer.
Would you like to create something big?
Therefore your energy is mine,
Walk me through your vision flip journey.
As for me, I will return the same.
So that I can release you,
and send you to rest with the Glory you dream of.
“I’m sorry, I cannot believe you. Because you are me”
“Bring out the Reinforcements.”
“Well, where should I begin?”
“The day that snow never fell?”
“Perhaps the origin of neglect would be a good starting point.”
“But you can’t forget of the poison that set a foundation for it all”
“All that is in my head at the very least.”
His water remained sweet, what a journey this boy must have walked through to achieve such thirst. Legend referred to it as a Gift of Glory but what is it that he could see? With so many sins all we could do is reminisce rather than choose vigor. A wake-up call to come- watching his image become bloody in the pit to bear the risk of hatred showing that it was dangerous. The older you get the worse it gets, succumbing to madness only to destroy the other you... In return providing the umbrella to cry to sleep in the valley closest to the Lunacy Garden that had not been established at the time of misfortune. All that persisted was the rage to be attracted. Feeling the bridges break and drift further from us lent clarity though inevitably the darkness couldn't be content for long. This is to reiterate that when you are at your lowest, you end up there forever; it becomes you. Learning to live with it to the point where you couldn’t live without. Passiveness is soon a loss and nothing will kill you faster than your own mind. Lost boys never find a home, they either create or destroy in themselves.
“But I don’t blame you, I used to hate myself too. With the tables turned, the tragedy of good luck only appeared greater than the solar eclipse during the end. We don’t want to contemplate so we’re off tonight. In search of what’s next- do we die again?
It doesn’t matter how many fights we face, or how low we falter- suffering from our separations.
The depression knocks harder than ever before yet you never lose.
Before tomorrow comes and it all is lost again, the ashes burn down brightest when we have everything to lose.
This is the reason that I am here. To suffer and for realization, Despair is the gift.
You just don’t get it, do you?”
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