Familiar faces
Leave friendly places
Before having the chance
To enjoy it
For the man always on edge
Can never lower his guard
Not because of perceived danger
But out of habit and disregard
To the finer tastes
Which cannot be tasted
For his life itself, flavorless

As the music box plays
Childhood melodies
Pure joy and bliss
With a mind full of thrills
Then, I grew up
And the notes distorted

No longer
Can I taste
The fresh flavor of fun
Is it because of too much exposure?
Has my mind changed?
Has the world changed?
When will the fun come?
Is fun important? Is life important?
Too many questions with no distraction
I care about nothing
I feel nothing
I am innocent--no longer

Lionize, demonize
Always on two different sides
Never truly realize
The damage it does
To the inside
Bundle of philistines
I have foreseen the end of me
Not of body, but memories
Much too late to intervene
Ivy cannot grow without a source
But when eyes have turned away
It is too late, only soul remains
Tired of autonomy, praying for a lobotomy

Toxic sassafras
Poison to the bone, yet still
I desire it so

Malice
Come in many forms
But at its rotten core
Lies ignorance
Not to be chastised
But to be guided, educated
The way to reduce evil is not to extinguish
To foster and nurture a new perspective
That will do much more
No more breaking down doors
Owned by the most important people

Scraping the walls
That resemble my mind
I cannot think coherently
For my sight
Has gone blind
My ears
Have gone deaf
My touch
Has numbed
My smell
Has died
Toppled by nightmares
Which persist when awake
Wishing for the day
To fly away