You always loved the heightened pulse,
the moment just before the fall.
When something steady starts to shake,
you grin, convinced you fooled them all.

You crave desire more than truth,
a stolen vow that cuts so deep.
It isn’t love you’re searching for—
just tasting what’s not yours to keep.

You never take what’s freely offered;
you hunt the hearts you know by name.
As if their trust was yours to tease,
untouched by consequence or shame.

You lurk near what’s forbidden—
where signs declare, “Do not go in”.
and wait until the door gives way,
so you can claim your hands were pinned.

You shape your stories, tilt the blame,
until your lies are dressed just right.
The echoes bend to sound the same
even to those who hold you tight.

But patterns haunt the empty rooms,
revealing all you try to hide.
I see it now, the way you move
when stillness whispers, “step inside”.

True love lingered, within your reach,
asking you loudly to step away.
But darkness whispered your old name,
and pulled you back where shadows play.

So weave your web, I won’t come near,
your lies can reach where fate demands.
I’ll watch the knots you choose to tie,
and leave them tangled in your hands.

I found my peace by living truth,
and setting false illusions free.
My karma is a life at rest;
yours lingers in your secrecy.

If this is how you feel alive,
then take them—all the stolen sparks.
I found a better kind of joy,
a light untouched by all your dark.

–The Nonconformist