The jade grass,
Sapphire ocean,
Amber marshes
And topaz beaches.
All of this is outside,
Right past my door,
I’d go, but to the world...
I’m a bore.

There’s only so much time
For the petals fly by,
And the thorns
Are always quick to follow.

All it takes is some time,
And things can happen.
I waited in my solitary state,
But eventually the raven came for me,
not a half a second too late.
It bore a letter,
A letter which filled a book.

Apparently
Eyes that I thought
Held no value
Are rather pretty
To others.

A class full of wonders,
but there I sat,
talking to the one of interest.

Topic after topic slipped by,
our minds ran cracked and dry,
but we kept talking.
We talked about life,
our problems and strife,
what plagued our week,
and what made us weak.

The clock had long since grown wings,
and it's deathly bell shook my body,
but as classes solemnly moved,
she moved along with me.
We continued to excitedly talk
as we kept on our inter-class walk.
Once it had come to a close,
I wondered in thoughts of blue,
if it could ever happen again.
A fluid yellow moment
on a viscous black week.

What’s all the hubbub
Just a worse influenza
Overbuying food...

Now that strings have been formed,
will they prove to hold like cables,
or is it another delusion?

How am I to awake on time
when my racing mind
keeps me up too late?

Why is my chest
feeling as it is?
my heart
cannot hold emotion,
but why does it act
as if it can feel?

Why do these voices
always get swept over my head?

And how was I so careless,
and open,
to a stranger?

And why are there so many questions
without answers?

A bushel of sweet berries
Wait upon their willowed branch
For the ghosts to come for them

The rains will come and drench,
The sun will march and shine,
But the sky will never change it’s hue.

Sweet berries wait for two ghosts
They’re no different than you.

Tiny drops of memories
Flow past our open minds
Bringing back the melancholy
Of a long forgotten childhood.

Maybe it wasn’t your fault
But I resented you for it.
Maybe you did come back
But you changed so much.

When the walls finally fall
and the mask finally splits,
it can be seen by all
that your castle's in bits.

A pressure can and will always push down,
you can't push back and keep your crown.

Do we really know
Where our soul shall go
After we decide to die,
And let our phantasm fly?

Or is our hurt cry
Another futile try?
Do those who pass us by
Suffer from the same lie?

Numerous simmering stars
Slip into the sky nightly,
Shining a a light on our paths,
Guiding us with their truths.
In conjunction with our luna,
They create the immaculate sky.

It is the stars that shine so true,
That uproot the light of night,
And create our sky so blue.
It is these stars
That lie to you.

In time,
Sparks will fall.
Flames will roar
Over the shimmering horizon.
A well-done sky,
No way to return,
But one way to cry.

As the walls come down,
There’s a look in your eyes;
My fear begins to freeze
As I recall all of those times
I shouldn’t have cried
And all of those times
I should have died.
But
I don’t mind,
Because you
Were so kind.

The vague moonlit visage
of her eternally beautiful face
was burned into my mind.

I remember it all,
especially the eyes.
She was smiling
a ventriloquist's smile.
Her face may have been
a summer sun's smile,
but her eyes
were a winter moon's sobs.

I want to help her
more than my pride
would ever
let my mouth admit.

It stabbed me,
like a rose's thorn.
Her immaculate facade
wrapped me in silky petals
then stabbed me with
those desolate eyes.

I still believe
that if I lost my sight,
and saw her no longer,
I would still see her that night.

Ignore them.
Do what you want.
If they don’t want it,
Then all they are
To you and me,
Are enemies.

I saw your eyes so blue,
I wondered if you were there too.
But now I saw that my rose grew
And I’d love to hand it to you

My feelings and love will hold true.

This write took a lot of courage to do...

When what is lost
Has not yet become found,
Why do we miss it’s presence
And dream it was still around?

No,
You don’t belong
In this head of mine
I think it’s time
For you
To politely...
*******!

Today is not the day
For you to take over
And ruin me in every way.
I don’t need another thumbprint
To litter these pages of mine.

It seems to always be those
Who weigh on you the most
That will impressively impose
On the thoughts you host.

If you love your hate,
And hate your love,
You’d be rather irate.
I’d suggest flying a dove,
And make peace,
For the hour strikes late,
And love is in everyone’s fate.

Picked up and put down.
Thrown into the ground.
Suffering from pain and hate
My mind goes a blank white,
My blood is stubbornly irate.
The day holds less light,
And the night now controls,
Filling my heart with empty holes.

It’s all a game of chess
you are just another pawn
We are all pawns, I digress.
Everybody is the same
Nobody is more special than the other
Not that anyone is special in this game
“The players don’t exist, mother.
There is no god, there is no satan”
A child will say this to their parent
This action was as useless as probation.
truth lain upon deaf ears, that is apparent.
We are all entrapped here, it is eternal
There is no cloud nine, it’s all infernal.

Who are you?
The person
who wrote these pages full?
You wear my name,
play my game,
but I don't remember
if you and I
are just the same lie.

Brimming with silent
Trepidation, words come not;
‘Cept my wordless thoughts.

It’s a way to calm oneself
After a tough day of work.
Clearing your mind,
Or filling it with other thoughts.
You feel refreshed at the end,
But it all hits back on you,
Like the hammer hits
The glowing metal,
Sending sparks of joy away.
Then you feel like
You should meditate again,
And so you do.

The caring child,
Who hopes for
The goodwill of all,
And believes in everyone.

The caring child,
Who listens to metal,
And writes dark poetry.

The caring child,
Who enjoys cutting
Himself right open,
And has attempted
To take his own life
A regrettable 4 times