a piece of prose

I don’t write prose because it’s harder to hide
Pretend these words have a deeper meaning inside.

Riddles and mixed messages are what I promote
Like telling you my mind is tied to a rope
Running down that non-existent hill
with hopes to witness the morning chill.

The lines between fantasy and reality are blurred
Fatality appears to be my favourite word
With every action, pain incurs
so I no longer listen nor am I heard.

How can I remember when I can’t forget
Cold, but somehow not cold enough yet
The frost melts as the sun rises
The sand scarred with shut eyelids.

Honesty is key to ending this
The truth unlocks a vast abyss
Neverending
Profound
Ignorance -
destroys bliss.