Roots 13 Somewhere else

I am tired to be in silence
Where my voice cannot break through.
I am tired to be an ally
Of annoying souls who are doomed.
And I miss something which
They never will understand.
Sort of love, but bigger.
Sort of hope, but nicely well done.
It is not believe or any of dreams
Which leads me astray.
None compare to it.
Sort of desire, but higher
Than deadly sins.
It is also not a cult of me.
Many times I  hate this theme
Like I am not a human,
But an ugly piece of hell
Which is under despair
And cursed everywhere.
Once I did a mistake.
Once I executed myself.
Put my soul in the arms of Death.
And I still can't get off from it,
Haunted and wanted
In the palace of broken dreams.
It always feels like
I want impossible from me.
And I am not honoured
Of a good existence. Because of me.
Too wrong to be.
Just another little satan
Punished for fire of life
Under pale skin.
And I know that's the thing I miss.
And I know that
I want to bring it back to me.
If I born to be evil, let it be.
By the same poison I will back myself
To the real things. Probably.

29-30.7.2022