00011: I Have Failed Yet Again
By: Mike FarahbakhshianWithin the black-ash flame of failure
dead, spiraling to hell around a restless, rejected spirit
burns embers of hope.
Sometimes it is worth it to keep the dying lights glowing;
to keep them gleaming;
to keep them growing.
Sometimes to do so would be folly.
It's a kind of zombie existence, really;
A needless resurrection of a stillborn love.
As those ill-fated embers are fanned into anger
and whipped into hatred
they RAGE
and in a frenzy of malice, consume the hand-made soul
that sits sullenly
paralyzed and lumpen with despair.
My hearth calls.
Dare I fan the coals?
It's your choice.
How much do you want to see me suffer?
The horror of losing hope?
Or the agony of being consumed by it?
Mike Farahbakhshian, 1/29/98 of dead souls
in a frenzy of malice, consuming my own self
dead, spiraling to hell around a restless, rejected spirit
burns embers of hope.
Sometimes it is worth it to keep the dying lights glowing;
to keep them gleaming;
to keep them growing.
Sometimes to do so would be folly.
It's a kind of zombie existence, really;
A needless resurrection of a stillborn love.
As those ill-fated embers are fanned into anger
and whipped into hatred
they RAGE
and in a frenzy of malice, consume the hand-made soul
that sits sullenly
paralyzed and lumpen with despair.
My hearth calls.
Dare I fan the coals?
It's your choice.
How much do you want to see me suffer?
The horror of losing hope?
Or the agony of being consumed by it?
Mike Farahbakhshian, 1/29/98 of dead souls
in a frenzy of malice, consuming my own self
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