The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I deviate from my initial intention and the crime scene revisits me.
My conscience collapses to the ground because the building blocks were built on infertile soil. Here I am again, ground zero, witnessing white dust.
Everything happens for a reason, but more importantly, everything falls apart for a reason. I'm beginning to question everything, the things I thought I knew, but never understood.
My heart is impure, and the dirt resides as second nature. A heart that holds a grudge is too heavy for any man to carry. So alone, I sit exorcising these inner demons.
What the fuck do I know about letting go.
What the fuck do I know about sincerity.
What the fuck do I know about detachment.
What the fuck do I know about me.
What the fuck do I know about anything.
These questions leave me in solitude because I am unworthy of anyone.
Tonight, I'm not here. I'm entering the void.