We're so many yet so alone,
We live in a prison and call it a home..


Only if I could die, I could be well,
Since over 7 billion people on this planet,
And not even a single has time for me,
What The hell...

whenever I cry, I just have a blanket,
My friends - they're so busy,
I feel like John Cena -
Saying you can't see me..

Somebody has a life to make,
Somebody is busy in the life already made,
And somebody's somebody has problems from me..
That's what the world's population sounds to me!

I want to die,
I want to end my life,
Maybe a dagger, a bottle of pills,
A gun or just the kitchen knife..

Or else,
Maybe this world could be made a better place,
And this Earth can too have better grace...
Where all are the winners of the same race,
Where there's no religion, no gender and no race..

Where the news  isn't flooded with - murders, robberies, corruption, abduction and ****..

Where people love humanity, and equality,
Where people love animals and are against them the cruelty,
Where mother nature is treated with all the novelty..
And where people don't live for money..

And where there is no liquor, no smoking pipe,
All humans, living a peaceful life..

No army - fighting for borders,
No policemen killing innocent 'cause of orders,
No terrorists no racists,
And humanity has no horrors...

I know that world is kinda impossible to create,
But maybe this does happen,
If  a little  step  we  initiate..

We're so many yet so alone,
We live in a  prison and call it a home..

I see hot fumes dressing the empty air
above my chocolate-colored bitterness.
And in between this wasp of hot trappings,
I see your name in abbreviations.

There is nothing so sad
As the idea of being
Almost

Almost got the grades
Almost did well in college
Almost got a good job

Almost met the one
Almost fell in love
Almost got married

Almost had a wife
Almost had children
Almost created memories

Within the idea of
Almost
Is so much potential
That can never be known

A warped neck on a Fender Strat , a broken bottle of Johnnie Walker Black . Torn felt on a mahogany billiard table , catfish fillets scorched on the fire , rendered inedible ..
A marvelous , precision tractor engine seized from loss of oil , a bumper crop of peaches killed by frost ..
An empty bottle of malt vinegar , wind blown lovely cherry pipe tobacco lost forever ..
Red ripe homegrown tomatoes shredded by hail , soft shelled pecans dropped in the well ..
First snowflakes of Winter melted on warm city streets , green grass left to die beneath a cloth sheet ..
Concord grapes dried on the vine , watermelon picked before it's time ..
Homemade biscuits burnt in the oven , true love within reach left undiscovered ..