Chapter Text
No one teaches us how to fail,
yet we repeat the pattern,
unaware, we believe in coincidences,
but the problem is the armor —
the one that traps and never frees.
Repentant, we cast the roses to the sky,
on the floor of compulsion we lament between whimpers,
deceived — that does not mend the crime.
In a world where forgiveness is the norm, it rarely speaks truth;
where eyes refuse to see, the shadows crawl,
with guilt, they fade into oblivion.
Can a life filled with pain ever be forgotten?
Our purpose is the struggle for survival;
we pay with the decay of our smiles.
...
Forgetting the details — I’m sorry.
Damn it, I’m so sorry. I truly am.
—C