Someday, i will promise the sky,
then toss me like a stone.
The Hidden Path.
Impluses, 5 senses that creates impulses and stored in different locations on the brain. Auditory, I heard the echoic..
Perhaps It's just delusion, or a trick of senses.
I wrapped myself, Don't lie.
There's truth in my lies,
Doubt in my faith.
I laid to waste in prison,
parole maybe.
Stimulus doesn't suit me,
In pieces, I chose to be alone,
Alone with all my secrets,
regrets possibly.
I'm indulged... Ego centred...
Telling myself to go,
hands beg me to stay.
Lips say that I love,
eyes say that I hate.
Who's next to be my console.
In pieces i swore, There will be No 1.
