Meanings

Suddenly all things were detached from their souls. The fire burnt all over again.

... Ought I understand why? ...

Oh the pain and the ache were so strong it almost hurted to wash it away. And still I enjoyed it!

... Ought I understand why? ...

The life, the dreams, crushed against a wall of thorns. The drippy blood... My blood... So crimson red it killed the light!

... Ought I understand why? ...

But I knew those meanings!! I just couldn't let them go!!

... Ought I understand why? ...

Aging

I wanted to cry...
An impassive silence would impose...
Somehow...
Was it so wrong to try?
I mean... I was to come close...
Anyhow...

Better left than right
If ahead is where you went...
Raging...
Wounded... So I might...
Stick around and bent...
Aging...

Nervous breakdown

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

What's the point in breaking down if no one seems to listen anyway?

Youngness

There was always a certain delusion in his youth. As often as he cried his eyes wouldn't listen to the salty water in his cheeks.
And as I went on he just smiled everytime I left and said no more than "Be back soon if you may".

So the years passed and he just stood there with his everlasting inocence... In the half rain gentled by the queer blossom of some glint of pretensious light.

One day I came back a little earlier to find out with profound awe that he was not there...
The next day I tried to make it on schedule... He just replied "It wasn't the time... One shall not fool around...".
That's how I lost him... Forever in the abysm of a night (un)like so many others...

Those rays of light...

Those rays of light were so scarce...

The raindrops were just falling as though nothing could set them free of the cold.
The hunger grew onto myself to finish what I had begun. But his will was far stronger and I gave up on me.

Thought it was an angel coming out of the fog, all white and gently touched by only a sparkle of pain in its eyes.
But then I learnt that daemons seldom cry for their long lost wings. And they often come in white for the fear of being rejected by human empathy.
For they need it as humans need their approval.