Dear ______,
Open your eyes man. Look at where we're headed. Don't you see the danger signs? The flashing lights of warning? Don't you hear the sirens wailing? My voice...? Quivering...? On the brink...? Of giving up? Of giving in? Of breaking down? It's sink or swim. ______, don't you see? The bargains they're making are starting to sound better with each passing moment and I'm afraid I can't pass them up; they're a steal. You keep shattering the panes of the window frames you put in place. What's the point? What's your deal? Is there any way I can escape with an easy hand? Have ______, this card shark of a dealer, dole out a win? Maybe I could swim safely away from this infested water instead of getting pulled under, instead of getting further frozen in this emotionless winter, but no, I'm afraid not; it's a sink and a swim relationship, a push and pull, a to and fro, a fall and fly: a controlled chaos. And that's sad to know because eventually something has to give way, even now the balance, the insane yin and yang feeling, the governed anarchy, is tipping, and I wonder if you think that it's the good that's actually dominating.
Love, ______
No comments:
Post a Comment