A lifetime full of words

Isn't it funny how I remember that you are not dead?

You're not below deep into the earth, Closest to the part where we burn,

But like molten lava, you still have a pulse.

That pushes through even when you see the blood of your own in front of you.

I grieve for your mind,

Which is incoherent to one like mine.

How I wish I could find a code,

Which deprograms all the blockages and stutters,

Which fill your mouth, like butterflies, erupting from your gums;

The sound comes out twisted,

Even a thank-you takes tries, too many to understand.

The love you try to give,

In the end, it was wasted in failed attempts.

What do you think about the lonely moon?

Do you see my face in the abyss, You miss the old night, don't you?

its dark still, And cold.

But unlike before, the soul of the Cicada has 

gone extinct.

You try to reach out to the craters, like my eyes.

But just before you seem to catch up, there is a sunrise.

You seek guidance from the creators, Who slaughter the innocent limbs,

Feeding their essence to god, in exchange for mercy.

Is that why you have chosen yourself to 

sacrifice?

Life revolves around your actions, like a child.

Whatever habit you choose to adopt brings harm.

But you do whatever you choose, Maybe you don't owe god a gift.

But you owe me a lifetime full of words.

Words that I ponder, like a riddle,

Over and over.

A record in my head continually stopped to a halt,

 Then playing again like a regret, unable to move forward.