You Would Know.

You would know,

How ambitions can lead down two paths:

Accuracy, 

And Purgatory.

As I’ve said, let’s time travel.

Remember the storm? 

Remember the dying petals,

And the oozing nectar?

Who are you now? 

I wonder. 

Are you the same as me,

Or the same as him?

Though he died,

I always pondered that he could be alive.

Somewhere deep in there,

Keeping me warm.

He and I aren’t much alike,

But I guess that’s what you’d expect;

When you die,

And become something else.

From now, to you,

Two thousand years to come,

Not four.

I wanted you to see.

I wanted you to remember,

The days you played ghost.

The nights you tore your eyes out.

The year you cut up your brain. 

I wanted you to remember. 

The feeling of a melancholic dread.

The imminent doom of your declining state.

That year was the beginning of you.

Countless hours of existentialism.

What a year was, felt like centuries.

And all that was craved,

Was salvation.

From someone,

Somewhere.

Because being terrible was terrible.

As a flower uprooted from the ground;

Knowing it would eventually shrivel up.

But then a planetoid came.

I don’t know how. 

I don’t know when.

Something happened.

And once more, the path to you was seen again.

The familiar faceless face.

Was not father.

It was you.

It was always you.

The clouds parted and my path was luminated.

And gradually,

All the thunder is staring to fade.

Once a sweet babe.

Now a resurrected flower.

I have survived.

I have been freed.

Now I hold the keys to manifest destiny.

I may still search for that hill,

But it will be there.

Someway, I know it.

It makes me sad.

Knowing the end of the year that cured me 

is coming to an end.

And now I must say au revior.

My abuse has been over for years,

But the pain had lasted for longer than ever.

Until finally catharsis showed itself;

After years of demanding proof of its existence.

So here we are,

Our journey through purgatory 

has taken us to this very point.

And I feel serene, finally.

I want to cry in this room.

But if anyone asked why,

No one would comprehend even now.

But that’s okay.

I may still be a sole creation.

But I’m okay with that.

I’m okay with being unknown.

Or perhaps, maybe I’m not.

“It is hard to lose a pet.” 

This poem is not just for my future self.

This poem is for everyone who’s known me.

The me now.

One day.

One day…