Cycle of the Mayhem

while the circus inside my head makes home

In the finite my body survives

In the mayhem my spirit comes alive

I carry so much pain and scars 

with the weight of many worlds on my back

since the beginning of everything I know

the root is in my very youth

and there is no way to terminate the hurt

for I would encounter the end of me

all there is left to do is to feel intensely

and analyze and deconstruct 

so I can roam forward into the path 

of life and death entwined like soulmates

even so misguided sometimes

better than dwelling in moments already gone

in the present,

the pain and the scars are numb and healing

and I am learning with the depth in me

I got my wounds 

going through many kingdoms and forbidden lands

in search of myself in the dark

beneath the surface

abyssal is the difference

of paradise and hell

of dreams and nightmares

and I dwell in the middle

right to the heart of everything

I feel I do not belong to this conformed world

for anything and anyone I see is drowned in misery 

There is no way to change when the fire inside is out

This soul craves for wilderness

in the core of voidness

roaming anesthetized listening to higher senses

We belong in the doom

We find comfort in the ruins

Yet so we want what is far from reach

while the circus inside our heads makes home

in the finite the rest of our bodies survives

in the cycle of the mayhem our spirits carries on