I'm not striving to be a cliche, it just came out as one by Undercover

Did you notice the lies dripping from my lips? Deceit has never tasted quite this good. Believe it or not, there is method hidden somewhere deeply in my madness. This shade of grey never looked so good, lining your heart and what it contains. Did you notice the words you etched in my heart? No, I don’t think so. Deep within the bullet proof walls, you crawled, like a worm and found my core. And somehow, I don’t think you even realized you reached it, you touched me like no other has. Fabrication and self mutilation, you never heard it from me.

Does it make me pathetic that I’m writing these words that no one will care to read?... I was told if it eases the pain, then anything is worth it.

That leads onto another train of thought; does physical pain really help the physiological pain in any way? You’d tell me it does, but I’d tell you that I’ve been there and done that, and it doesn’t. Then, I told you to reach for the daylight, and you told me that it was too far away. I offered you a boost, but you politely declined. You’ll never know what good I could serve you with.

I can see your pain, but I don’t think that you can see mine. I want to tell you three words that mean so much more than love. I understand you. I know you. – still declined. Something inside me tells me to just give up. And everyone around me thinks the same thing. I know, though, that giving up you is giving up hope… no one ever lasts after giving up hope. It’s another classic case of loving someone who will never feel the same. I’m bound to you with millions of paper thin knots. If I tried hard enough I could break them.

Your words from centuries ago are still ringing in my ears, much the same as the chime that a bell resounds in the church. But no God ever appears. Forever waiting for a savior that has been promised, though no one can put a date on the time when he is to arrive. The apocalypse in my world seems to be approaching faster than I would like to admit it is. I’m still preparing my innocence speech. Fate seems to be best left to take care of this situation. – No one has ever put a face on fate either.

A decimal point out of time, I lay with my hands in my pockets, digging deep for another chance. With never ending pockets you never get very far. I’ve become accustom to your 1am text messages and your 3am phone calls. You’ve become too accustom to me dropping everything to be with you, when you need me. All of the times we’ve written our hopes and dreams on napkins in fast food restaurants and every time we talked about life; those warm, suffocating creatures came back. I like to call them sorrow.

Pages of writing pass me by, this topic never seems to get old. My book is filling up, and life is moving on; everything seems to be going against what I want. So maybe if I sit back and watch life move forward without me I will find contentment. I find this form of existence more appealing than living anyway.

Did I mention the desolate land that crosses between my heart, mind and soul? Somehow you got caught in there. My only escape is writing it out, and I find my pen is wearing the burden. No, it’s not long now until everything turns against what I want.