Why is it that when it reaches the slightest bit of perfection
it seems as if it steps in the dimmest pit and somehow
gets lost into a trance of oblivion.
Pulls and pushes are driven from every direction
pulverizing what were, and what will be
becoming something unwanted and disgraceful.
A deadly sin takes over, manifests, and controls
every bit of emotion leaving you feel like an can of air
The frequent visits are out of consent but the invitation
sends itself
One of the seven manipulates our eyes to the unlikely, the painful,
and the lie that no one else
is able to comprehend but yourself
It then departs, along with the one you love.
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