You have islanded yourself
From our mundane mainland
Marooned yourself from hurt
Yet also left piece of mind behind.
You sacrifice pure happiness
For feeling just alright
This island is a comprimise
A state of neutral paradise.
And each moring the shores are washed clean.
Leaving no trace of yesterday's pain.
And you feel nothing.
And you are left unstained.
But this place is full of savadges
Fearful and loyal to your beast
And you can't even see you're being smothered
By this terrifying peace.
Yet no one is an isalnd
And so the rescuers come
To try and block out the sound
Of the unrelenting drums.
And with them they bring fragments
Of life from the real world
But you run for shelter
And their message is not heared.
So images like smashed stained glass
Fall wasted on the ground.
And they're beautiful and their blinding
And you bury them in the sand.
'Till there's nothing left but the drumming.
And the day the rescueres stop coming.



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