A potion to the heart, a poison to the mind —

The slow, haunting sloth that begins to unwind.

Sickening for the stomach,

Wild for the eyes —

A beauty that betrays,

A truth laced in lies.

What does betrayal sound like?

Warmth and comfort snatched in a breath,

The complaint of one

Who couldn’t hold past a test.

Is this what it means to be truthful?

To calm yourself

By crushing another?

To take it all —

And leave the rest to suffer?

Is that your flex?

Irony, right?

Alright.

The heart pumps blood —

But the way it bleeds...

The brain still thinks —

But fog wraps its needs.

The will is there,

But nothing can be done.

It’s damaging

To carry it, bare, alone.

So to the end —

The one who comforts is human.

The one who destroys —

Also human.

Who am I looking for?

What if I’m both?

Or is that what you want me to believe?

A cure for the heart, a curse for the mind —

The first drifts away, the second stays behind.

Is this the reality or what I believe —

Sleep to be awake or too awake to sleep?