Deep down into the heart of gold, lives the tiny marking of black smut.
Within that forgotten black hole, lies the truth.
Its horrible really. The hate, the empty space, the pain.
I find myself running circles; like many years before.
How deep does the dark go? No one ever really knows.
I always pictured myself dancing. Throwing my head back, arms in the air.... dancing.
Smiling. I was always smiling in this fake vision of myself. Smiling, dancing, living.
Is that what holds the black smut? The heavy truth of what never was. We never get it back.
Death is around each corner and we never get back what is lost.
Pain lives on like an enormous opportunity. What are we suppose to learn from it?
How to be happy? I thought that's what it was.
We'll never get it back. You never do.
Walking like zombies in circles. Always in circles.