The night ignites and I see myself stand firm to come to a firm decision, we’re in an endless stream of choices. I run and run, but don’t find a way through. A dark song plays inside my mind, it’s such a haunting melody. The sweet corrupting reality comes through like a vision of some sort and opens my mind. There is a choir of haunting voices tormenting my mind, I know I must execute a plan, but which? Do I breathe the name of my lover in my hour of need? And, taste the past if the flavor should remind me of my resentment? I run for after no disaster, hope to never fall.
But, without him, my body feels like a tin can that has rust. Can you feed my love? It dances underneath the dark. Without my lover, my life feels like my world is nothing but a world of rust. Can you feed the yearning within me? Because without him I feel that beneath the skies so blue there is no purpose in life, everything is tattered and fallen apart. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away when my world is burning, don’t dare call me mad for I’m not mad; just give me some time to recover from my wounds. For everything dies, the fire and the human soul must die at some point.
Explination: This paragraph disguised in beautiful imagery is very personal. It’s about the time my bf wanted to take a break from our relationship. However, he repented and came back.
At the pit of night I took a firm decision, a stand to come to a decision. There are endless options of what I could have done. Forgive, not forgive or me leave and let him have his break. But, no matter how much I ran in this life I just couldn’t make up my mind. The “dark song” represents resentment. The “choir of haunting voices” is frustration, and I know I must make a decision, but which?
Later, in the 2nd paragraph I state “But, without him, my body feels like a tin can that has rust” meaning that my whole soul is burdened, time stops when he’s not with me, I’m not the same anymore. Now, speaking to the audience I say: “Can you feed my love?” as in: “Is there someone out there who can make me feel the same as this man made me feel?“. Later on I add: “Don’t dare call me mad for I’m not mad; just give me some time to recover from my wounds. For everything dies, the fire and the human soul must die at some point.” Mad here states to the state of being angry. My resolution to the problem is to give myself some time to heal my wounds for just as resentment dies so does fire and the human soul.
