Mistakes Turn Into Dungeons When Unaddressed

What were the choices; spinning through anguish, knitted at so many lies; so we vanished, to lose so much, to gain so much!     The journey is incomplete; the war is internal; where triumphs come in series.     What is this good life; a product of thoughts, to hear recurrent screams.     She taught him life, to damage life, to leave him spinning.     Often we touch abjection—staring at motives, aghast by motives.     How did she love him; to cause such breakage, to hold a level of malice?     The rehearsal failed—forever adverse, to run from spoken words; for actions stipple, the silent mind, where the vocal speaks; so we vanish, to lose so much, to gain so much!     How for balance—to heal the wounds, chasing our dreams?     We vent and mull, and mourn and die, to realize a process; where fragments linger, to arrest a soul, geared for melancholy.    

What were the choices—when one is dying, gazing at the absurd; so we muscle our hearts, to lose a fortune, to take our journey.     How did she love him—where love was maybe, discredited by actions?     “I love you enough—to undermine you”—where this is dejection.     The stage collapsed, and all parties ran, to distress the mirrors; whereat is distance, to maintain silence, a bit unforgiving.     They live a young mind: “If I avoid you, than it’s not true.”     They perish this plight, to venture for clarity, where the lakes are muddy; so for this feeling, a smidgen less than heaviness, puffing a cigar.     They’re left to ponder, this aching mirror, standing where they spin; so we muscle our hearts, to lose a fortune, to take our journey; but woe is us, to slant our voyage, to deceive The All Seeing; for this is stress, for repeated deaths, to wonder for why.