Rinsing Rust

Is love just an emotion, with memories tainted;
Somewhere in the corner, this filth with wrath anointed;

Taking its own course, these meandering rivers;
Stretched and battered at all corners, stripped and faded of its colors;

The mind still breathes, least for the sake of its counterpart;
Poisoning itself to its slow demise, how heartless is this heart;

And the song keeps playing, the same guitar gutless;
The same scream inside, ever so melodious with lasting grief it’s blessed;

Moving on…growing more rusted with each right turn;
But how wrong each one is, now there’s no more fuel left to burn;

The sights grown so tired of, always feared to open these eyes;
It’s not the vision, but the perception so dreadful, blinded with bliss in these lies;

They still don’t stop from devouring, every last bit of life;
Relishing the rot and spew with no time to smell, so succumbed to strife;

Smothered by thoughts, gone wasted with all the toxic then so sweet;
Belief’s just one of those pawns, betrayed by life…left dying in retreat;

Has no one found out, life’s already dead punished for its sins;
The gross within doesn’t matter anymore, left with just froth of whatever you were trying to rinse;

cg_a