Urenna’s LAW

I watched them manifest their pain onto you as if you were the child of sin. I understand. I get that you may be distorted throughout the years. Forgetting yourself in the process, as you look up to the sky and wonder if this was a part of your plan. 

“Did you know me before then?

I ask in a monotone voice. You search for the resemblance of grief upon my face and see nothing. Your stare doesn’t compete with mine. Your stare is bleak and subjective, hard to understand when it’s your fault this time. At the fraction of the cost, what redirects your thinking when the knots we created have been untied?

“I get it, I know. You didn’t ask for this”

“Then why did it have to come to this?”

You see I will not be the subject of this. Your mannerisms behind walls are showing again. You explode under pressure. I know you want to. You need to. The thrill of justification exceeds you. I am your platform for fame. The dirty messes, a pile of rubbish if the disposal wasn't already enough for you to be ashamed. I know there’s more of them and it’s written on your heart, unerasable like ink when it becomes a stain. You don’t need to hide it.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing changes. Shit will always be the same whether you like it, or not.”

“Change is relevant.”

“Not today.”

New days aren’t new sometimes…they’re repeated. They become a cycle of constant questions like you. You misled yourself and disregarded the biggest point of view. An atmosphere that was taken away because the world had decided that this was too peaceful for you. What is peace? You could easily find it within my complexities, and use my exaggerated actions as the hidden clues. A cloud of imagery and notion, that noted this so we don’t become lost and confused. I don’t despise you. Don’t even think that I even tried, too. I’m being constant and precise, as memorable as you want me to be. At the moment while you combat words, I’m moralizing everything that I see.

“Your words mean nothing!”

I broke through flesh. Your heart has sunk to the bottom of the ocean this time. I know that look better than anyone, and no one can contest. The softest spot on your chest, as I continue to cut deep. So deep, the knife gets stuck like the stories you decided to make up. You bleed as I ponder your motion. Eyeing your tactics. You learn to hesitate and build off of what you already know. I feel bad for you sometimes. How hard can it really be to grow? How hard do I have to continue to push forward, until my mind can no longer process the word “go”? Will I be just like you? Will I have to endanger a sacred thought that released its aura onto me, so delicately, like the feel of soft, white snow? Be the bearer of the elders, and leave my heart buried beneath the bricks maybe. Leave me for dead even, as the earth caresses my head and I mirror these feelings with safety. That might be the answer, and you just never know, but honestly…I just can’t let this one go.