Whispers On Your Heart

To sail across the sea one must have a boat, preferably one that floats. Withought it we're to sink deep into the darkness where the pressure is unbearable.

No longer at the mercy of the winds but the ferocity of the tides deep beneath the surface beyond the veil. A place where light can no longer shine through the cracks of your restless spirit.

The Veil torn as you sink deeper into the darkness clawing your way back to no avail. The fear sinking in as you begin to fall deep into the abyss.

One last kiss, the kiss of death. The only light, your life as it flashes before your eyes. Why, the first question that enters your mind.

What have I done to be forsaken that can't be redeemed, aren't you listening to my screams? You have sealed your fate it would seem.

Wisdom never acquired even in your old age and page after page inscribed in ink washed away.

The world around us tests us in every way. Once you sink beneath the veil you will surely fail. The question is, why?

Deadly is the sin to lie. The sins which mold our minds are those that twist our hearts. When the heart is heavy you sink, it's never what you think.

Actions speak louder than words but the pen is mightier than the sword. Twisted is the word and soaked is the sword in the blood of your brother.

Heaven or hell, no matter, we all make our own beneath the throne.

Beneath the veil is a well full of wishes and the nail that sealed your fate is a lie, the wisdom of the minds eye.

Will you succumb to the drums beat after beat or find the boat that'll take your heart across the sea without a fee?

Do not build yourself in gold we are told for you will surely fold. Infallible is the notion; the motion is that of a potion, one that poisons.

One cannot rely on one's self, one must be selfless for otherwise the price will leave you restless.

Do not fret for when clay is wet it can be remolded; the cracks are mended and you become an impenetrable fortress.

The thrill of life is something drilled into our minds but you will find the hands of time will not unwind.

To be meek and kind you will hear the whispers on your heart but if you listen to the whispers on your ears you will hear all of your misplaced fears.

The tears that run down your face will not tear the fabric of time and space but rather tear you apart for its the condition of your heart that bleeds and for that you will only plead.

The mind is foreboding and in your loathing your tears; you will drown all the sounds.

The feather on the wind does float but not when soaked in the tears of the rising sun.

The whispers on your heart don't lie and for that you will never die.

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