Hysterics.

Beauty is seldom seen and held by the very few,
Yet it’s been boasted about by the millions that tread this planet.
Shining bright like that rusted stone,
We hold a piece of every soul that have made its way into our lives.
Though we may not know what we possess,
We seem to know what we do not want.
For our minds are our battlefield
And the voices inside our head are not what they seem to be.

You asked me for my patience and you gave me anarchy.
The world I knew was fading and now all that remains are ruins.
Trying to remember what a memory looks like.
Knowing what’s wrong yet I do not wish to move .
A million things going wrong, but everything feels so right.
A hundred feet I fall and I learned to fly high.
I lean into your scars and see how immaculate they are.

We were ready to break the air for the things we loved,
Now we burn our bones and keep the love warm.
We seem to love what we have realized.
And you look like you’ve forgotten your ways which haunt your days.
You seem to live like a story that makes me rush.
Your hands intertwined in my thoughts.
Keeping me alive with the things that run wild and free.
Your promises like a book that’s been reread by my soul.

You are another hypothesis bidding me a new adventure,
And I am your favorite hysteric.