; Red Strings
You know what’s the root of suffering?
Red strings.
Tied to a being that’s no longer giving,
Tied to an ending that have no meaning,
Like watering a dead tree and begs it to live.
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But why don’t we break free?
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We are beings that’s always hoping,
We are beings that’s controlling,
We are beings that latch on to memories,
We are being that imagines what could be,
We are beings that’s easily pulled into misery,
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Loosening the grip plunge you into Devil’s Pit,
Breaking free is a recipe to meet Hades,
Healing is another sprint in atoning for your sins,
You’re like an addict,
Withdrawing from the pills.
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Such weaklings aren’t we,
At the mercy of the red strings,
But the irony is,
That’s what makes humanity.