You've looked inside you and discovered so much. Your inner demons, your fatal flaws, your dreams and the people you dream of.
Have you ever looked inside yourself and tried to find your song?
Push yourself deep inside and run your fingers along the contours of your soul. Do the contortions make you cringe? Or are they a subject of unparalleled beauty? The china doll of your admiration, despite all the tiny cracks?
In a few seconds, a beautiful wail will fill the hollow valves of your heart. There'll be a calming pleasure in your palpitations, your rapidly trickling perspiration. The nerves of your mind give in to the seductions of your psyche. Tell me when we meet, how does it feel to rendered sweetly helpless by the inhuman strength of this philtre?
The power of a song. A simple rhythm. Taps of your fingertips, lashes in the wind. Bubbling laughter to a lulling lullaby. A wave of crazy simplicity that strikes your being and infiltrates your persona, viral, a part of you, now seared in. Have you ever longed for a person to share your innermost secrets, your conundrums? Has your shattered trust ever pulled you back? Tell me how beautiful it is when it enters, unstoppable, into everything you've protected from the stinging judgements.
What do you picture your song as? A cruel puppeteer who drives you out of your comfort and salvation, or the smiling angel who gets you by the horrifying day and its reality?
Is there some comfort, in this helplessness?
Is there some solace in surrender?
Is there some shelter, in being utterly, completely
Sold?
Have you ever looked inside yourself and tried to find your song?
Push yourself deep inside and run your fingers along the contours of your soul. Do the contortions make you cringe? Or are they a subject of unparalleled beauty? The china doll of your admiration, despite all the tiny cracks?
In a few seconds, a beautiful wail will fill the hollow valves of your heart. There'll be a calming pleasure in your palpitations, your rapidly trickling perspiration. The nerves of your mind give in to the seductions of your psyche. Tell me when we meet, how does it feel to rendered sweetly helpless by the inhuman strength of this philtre?
The power of a song. A simple rhythm. Taps of your fingertips, lashes in the wind. Bubbling laughter to a lulling lullaby. A wave of crazy simplicity that strikes your being and infiltrates your persona, viral, a part of you, now seared in. Have you ever longed for a person to share your innermost secrets, your conundrums? Has your shattered trust ever pulled you back? Tell me how beautiful it is when it enters, unstoppable, into everything you've protected from the stinging judgements.
What do you picture your song as? A cruel puppeteer who drives you out of your comfort and salvation, or the smiling angel who gets you by the horrifying day and its reality?
Is there some comfort, in this helplessness?
Is there some solace in surrender?
Is there some shelter, in being utterly, completely
Sold?
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