Cannibalism

It is not something to think about. It is far away from now, it is not necessary, it is not something vital, not something you could cry for, not something real. As newborns we do not know...we know, but we might as well just think it is something that only happens in a fairy tale, something fake. A lie. Something that was just written, created, produced to amuse people with the help of two Vermilion Borders. It is disgusting, cheap, embarrassing, and frightening. It is the joke of all jokes; it is a complete disorder when the topic becomes the volume of the place.

Then, you leave. You go, you go, but you miss the fact that it might be as true as blood.
But you forget.

I am not count as a human being, nor do I exist. I'm forgotten, or perhaps I'm not..if I was never known. To think that as youngsters it was worthless, ridiculous; ridiculous to think that we could possibly be one in a future... To think that eventually we would lack the love, and have to seek it amongst us, just like cannibals. It seemed impossible that wanting it could ever be the thing you desired the most. I, we, we were not profound; it was a joke, it was fake, it was funny. It became important, it becomes important as you realize that you're old, as you begin to know. Suddenly you just want to explore, and go into depths..and go. And it all breaks down to one, or two, one...one, One you thought was an idiot. The very one that  was extremely vexing. The very one that forgot. But now that one, One, is your burden. It is everything; it is all. It is anxiety. It is a lie. It is a lie, because the One forgot, the One didn't care, the One never cared, cares, or will care. The One is fake, making you fake, making me fake; just a lie. Just a lie that can grow in twenty-seven days. A tear that is shaved after six minutes. Sadness that lasts twenty-one minutes, and a paralyzed state of mind that lasts three hours...