L’appel Du Vide ~ Call of the Void

What’s a boy to a star who gazes from afar?
But a boy lost in reverie, knowing he was bound to be from the start?
L’appel du vide.
I can be condescending just to feel like I’m ascending
but still feel like a decline, is the message sending?
L’appel du vide.
If my dreams come true, will my nightmares too?
The world is grey, but this body of water I see below is a deep dark blue.
L’appel du vide.
Falling for ephemerals and self-beliefs
Icarus of love when November clipped my wings.
Cliché promises that I made, that I never heard you say
If I never meant them at first, would you have even stayed?
L’appel du vide.
Broken mirrors creating different identities
For my safety? For my pleasure? Or for individuality?
But behind this singularity, I feel a creeping duality.
L’appel du vide.
Fireflies on flower beds
Moon beams of blue, purple and red
An invisible choir harmonize a song
In a black and white engulfing fog.
L’appel du vide.

What’s a butterfly to a moth?
A dream without a cost?
Blood with no veins?
A legend with no name?
A sky without its hue?
Somebody that nobody knew

What’s love to a boy
But a dream he remembers
Before he woke up
In November
Blissful September
Signs in October
Coldest December
Eventual inevitable recurring ending.
L’appel du vide.

Opportunity to speak honestly
But for them to understand fully is a probability
Simply, I probably won’t fully use honesty
To convey, but what else to say
If not the truth I feel today?
Kill the butterfly of Daydreams
The Fireflies of Hope
This the flight of the moth, the boy from ‘07 was the cost to cope

Mr. Moodswings
Melancholy and Loathe
Winter and Spring
Effigy’s and Crows

Memento Mori
Falling for L’appel du vide
Vision going blurry
I can feel myself falling
Intertwine with his life, before he died
Who he was, now I am
Altering, I’m running out of sand
Cloud 40 to the 30
25 to the Ninth
Crashing down like Icarus
I can feel the moth within
Fly away
Leaving the butterfly to decay
…Or is it the firefly?
Of that last remaining distant memory of the boy’s life.

…Wake Up.