Worship of the unknown

In the darkness, I saw your eyes hungry for sin. My field of vision is sad in the corners of a deserted swamp where the cliff of longing is indifferent to wild humans... My nature is sad and depressed when compared to the light of those passionate about human nature. Could we originate from one of the sunbeams that illuminates us on these gray days? My 'self' is completely complex. The trees weep and yearn for death. The feeling of liberation is beautiful. There may be redemption from sin and much beyond the misfortune of those who cry closely with a red rose in their right hand against their chest. Our story is sad from the perspective of those who are more degraded than us, we who are strangled by silence. Silence is like a tear that cuts my chest and burns beside those who have gone to dwell in another world created for the fearful and in contradiction with the real. I search in the different phases of life for my ideal of serenity. In the recesses of life, I find the net that will fish me out from all exhausted natures of living. The lost people look into the blue depths that cover us with strength and see everything they wanted to experience but don't accept due to fear. This feeling of fear is unreal... Am I an unhappy apprentice who adores life? The palette that defines my life is seasoned with brightness, and the habit of longing marks human existence. The imaginative thought of those who claim that dreaming is only for the faithless is fantastic. It's surreal to imagine and be able to dream... If your eyes are kind, my gaze will smile. We are fear. We are emotion. We are flesh and bone.