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Loathe: Acceptance

from Creation Of Sin by Necropia

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    I. Creation Of Sin
    II. Loathe: Denial
    III. Coward
    IV. OCD
    V. Delusional
    VI. Schizophrenia
    VII. Loathe: Acceptance
    VIII. Choke

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lyrics

VI. Schizophrenia

These voices in my head,
They won’t let me think,
They won’t let me rest,
Demonizing my already demented self image,

I can contemplate until I,
end up with careless conclusions,
But I’ll never really know what’s on your mind,
And I barely know what’s on mine,

Am I starting to sound like a broken record yet,
or am I just starting to make sense,
Am I starting to sound like a broken record yet,
or am I just starting to make sense,

In this somber silence,
I can sit and rip my past to shreds,
Or I can build a brighter future,
But I can’t make decisions on my own,
And I doubt I could find anyone willing to,
guide me,

I know, what I need to do,
I need to learn to,
accept all my mistakes,
I need to learn to,
affirm all my failures,
But what if I can,
never move,
on, from, this, penitence,

I compulsively, check up on myself,
and its starting to aggravate,
it’s starting to complicate,

this already complicated character,
my already intricate, individuality,
I can surround myself with, people that pretend to care,
It would be easy to, establish false optimism,

But I’d rather be honest with myself,
All my friends are, dead,
they’re not coming back,
they all lie beneath six feet,
of overly anticipated, excuses,

Sometimes I dispute in my head,
I recycle these thoughts of regret,
that I once laid to rest,
Whether it was easier,
knowing in the back of my mind,

That I could always count on you,
But I always put an end,
to these quixotic expectations,

I never thought I’d say it,
but you might as well not exist,
I resurface the regurgitated,
remnants of my past,
I’ll try to piece them back together,
but there is no chance of,
returning from this hell,
I can’t complete myself,
I only deplete myself.

VII. Loathe: Acceptance

A year ago,

I would have gotten down on hands and knees,
I would have begged,
to have this much time to myself,
but yesterday was another day, and now,

the times in which,
I’m desolate,
are the only ones,
I, get,

I can’t handle the, silence of my surroundings,
or the conversations in my head,
I don’t need someone to tell me,
that I am disarray,

I am, a cornered stray,

viciously vexed by this volatile visitation,
I am your empty pack of smokes,
you took a drag for every word I spoke,
until, you had, no lungs, left to breathe,

resentment, was my middle name,
cause I never learned, to cooperate,
and this villainous, vice of mine,
is how I came to terms, with losing you,
but the reality is, I never lost a thing,
and the reality is, I forced you to lose everything,

tore your heart out of your chest,
buried it beneath my bitterness,
tore your heart out of your chest,
buried it beneath my bitterness,

I can sit and keep writing about my past,
I can stress on how much of a mess it was,
but how much more stress would that cause me,
I’d rather leave what I once had,
I’d rather leave what I once thought I had,
and focus on what is yet to come,

I’ll raise these dreads from scratch,
create careless conclusions,
rebuild regretful remorse,
open myself up,
show the panic I hide,
I’d let you in and, pray to god you could weather the storm,

But I don’t believe in prayer, I don’t believe in god,
So I’d rather hide my flaws, even if they dismantle me in the end,
at least thats what I tell myself,
But the reality is,

I am scared of who I once was,
you make me wish I was a better person,
you make me aspire to be fearless,
but I’m scared that one day I will let my frailty show,

like an abandoned church, 
pieces of me once were valued,
pieces of me once were idolized,
but I shared too much and I gave too much away,

I lost my sense of dignity, diligently, disaster struck fear in me,
today is further from yesterday than i ever thought i would be,
and im rebuilt in the shadow that her confidence creates,

I’m glad I found my volition,
it was hidden behind white lies,

surrounding your world in disingenuous,
cliches,
nowhere inside me anything,
ever, loved you,
and with every word I compose,
a stronger confidence grows,
this ego swallows me whole,

Go ahead,
you can hate,
whoever comes next,
as long as you,
understand,
I will never hate, you any less...

credits

from Creation Of Sin, released June 27, 2015

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