The make-shift heart and it's musings; Singulus/Concordis

in the end all we are; faded sense of self, piles of excuses.  half awake and fully dead, no one notices how we're all the same.  convinced of others greater fortune, blind to our own.  things held on pedestals where they don't belong.  where words become useless behind double meanings.  things seen more clearly through blind emotion, but locked away from the world.  if ever there was a time to be, to think, to feel; it would be now.  this moment. this moment. this moment.

comprehension fails me.  why the fear of breaking yourself, if everyone's already shattered?  together we adhere, apart we're just pieces of the endless puzzle.

there is too much to say, and time is but a passing friend.