Your Darkest Weapon Isn't Love

The poem in the previous post also has some random prose to go along with it! I listened to this song, Genius and Theives, by Eluvium. It TOTALLY inspired me, so I wrote this, and then I wrote that poem, so I have TWO things about how things often disappear. OOOOOO. How talented I am.

Things often disappear you know. Without telling you they are going anywhere. But in a way, you really should know, because you are the reason they are gone. When you watch it disappear, you only stand alone, in silence, for crying makes it true. Put a smile on your lips. A small one. Just a little reminder that you are ok. Even though you are not. Just a little half smile. Still and silent. Reminding you of when it was still there, that thing that disappeared. And when you try and think, of why it’s gone, you’ll see it. The box within your heart that inside holds your darkest weapon. You assume that it is love. That it holds ironic meaning as it hurts all those you touch, or helps them in a way. But it isn’t. It really isn’t love at all. The box within your heart holds all the secrets you keep from yourself. You know, you never will know everything within the box. But you open up a crack, and out slips the voice, telling you the disappearing things were all your choice. You fucked it up a lot, and now everything’s a mess. The weapon in this world, that really hurts the most, is knowledge. Oh how you rue the knowledge that the world is all your fault. But worst of all is when this tells you how things often disappear.