What if I told you that sunset endings were just a ruse,
Something to convince you,
Make you think,
You were not enough?
The stuff that fairytales are made of,
To profit from your pain?
No.
You would scoff,
Cast me off.
Because
This world is lonely,
And perpetually so,
Continued unjust actions,
A world pressing down on its very inhabitants,
Prisons, physical and metaphorical,
Created by its own creation.
The real ruse is the belief that you only have yourself,
Yourself only,
To hold,
What a horrendous existence.
So.
Fucking.
Lonely.
Your adventures are fantastic,
To protect your heart you do drastic
scholastic endeavors to define yourself,
Awards readied for your shelf,
Monetary gain and a cush bank account to ease your pain,
To guard your existence as you float as a singular atom,
Yet the surprise is you are not designed for mere isolation,
For you are human, not atomistic,
Things are not that simplistic,
To hide your smiles,
To house your feelings for a curated public display.
No.
Let it go.
Stop living in the woe that was your life decades ago,
Love did not hurt you,
No,
It was the hues of human anguish,
Your own languish is the result of the capability of inflicting pain.
So when you laugh at the idea that sunset endings filled with love is a ruse,
Make a decision,
Choose you,
Your heart,
Create a new start that welcomes more,
Because at your core you hope,
You desire,
The passion that starts and sustains fire in your soul.
Love is possible,
Welcome it,
Admit,
You want a sunset ending with a love that is impassioned,
Not rationed,
Or emotion fashioned from fear
Of being alone,
But it's not the same as being lonely, my dear,
Hiding tears,
Steering away from possibilities,
Leaving you to simply house hostilities simply solidarity.
I'm inclined to know,
Believe,
We could have had a love that would flow endlessly,
The kinda that glows,
Illuminates beauty for all to see.
Alas,
Our walls are up,
For we believe sunset endings are a ruse.
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