I dont want the day,
So I'll stay awake,
'Cause I'm afraid of what's on the way
And what it is I have to face,
And I'm afraid of this other phase,
This other stage, this other wave.
Sometimes I wish I just won't ever make it through the day,
'Cause I hate the day, and I'm afraid of what's on the way
For us in this sick game, my pain is their pain,
You're laughing as our skins melt away.
My ship will sink,
And I'll drown in hell,
But I know I won't die,
It's not the gate, it's not the way

To live a life and say I'm fine.
Have all these dreams and all these lies,
I'm on the ground and they're in the sky.
Pointless words and pointless rhymes,
That never mean and I never fly,
Why think a word of mine will ever change a mind...
If mine can't help my own blighted mind.

I don't want the day, and I'm afraid to make a face,
But here it is in hours anyways.
All I can is bleed this poem and leave it here as an emotional escape.

And it seems to me I'm on a completely different frequency,
Out with my blood and insecurities to be told silently the belong back into me,

So here's another night made under the name of pain,
Another night to take what's left of my pride to make,
Another mortal, useless piece of song,
To take away the pain for another day.

Then another try in another day,
To try to debunk what the voices say,
That my words won't claim back someone's stay,
But they proved to be right in most ways..

I'm rolling over,
To cry in the corner,
Remorse is hitting harder,
And I'm falling over and over.

I'm rolling over,
To try to not be a loner,
But hope's hitting softer,
And I'm losing over and over.

Losing friends and making none, sometimes I don't get what I've done,
Or why have I done what I don't want,
I didn't want to lose you friend, I'm sorry I made a fool out of myself, again.

Monsters of men, not under your bed,
best do what they said, they said all is well.

Is all so well?

Monsters of men, know you not but know your head, we're fish in a net, mind-sets unset, we're living like the dead,
But only truly living after death

*¿whø are mønsters øf men?

Tell our dad I'm sorry.

There's a place
Where the light
Won't find you,
Deep inside.

There's a place,
Where the hope,
Is so cold,
Deep inside.

We have all been scorched
Down the flat of our feet,
From the walk, to the top
Of our lowered heads,
And it was decided we didn't want to do this anymore.

I see my clique have made it quite clear they've been winning more battles now,
I walk around the camp checking out their paintings and hearing their chants,
And I see hands holding hands, keeping them too,
The saving was done by brave, obscure tunes,
Different sound waves crafted by two, saved them all and grew them new.
The art everywhere and battle scars,
I smile a little smile but it's a sad one in my mind,
It's all out of my insider thoughts,
It's all out of my insider gloom.

I should fall into these groups,
Of survival in the dark, but it's way over my top,
And I shuffle back to my place and same all spot to watch from a far,
And the whispers declare this is the darkest dark.

There's a place,
Where the light,
Won't find you,
Deep inside.

But there's a way,
And a choice we can make,
To find it instead.
Way outside.

Now... what is it in my heart, that I like this dark?....

I... how do I start this?

Okay, I'll just, just get straight in...

I think of nameless things,
Weightless thoughts with withering strings,
Faithful thoughts of my distressed links,
Boneless thoughts now surfacing,
Stressful 9, and He stopped winking,
No two's and no signs and I'm singing,
So here's now what I'm invested in:

I like to sing, I like to write, there's a Sılver ın my mınd,
I also like to talk in rhymes, and keep the meaning behind.
No, I don't talk like this real life.

Just a little sometimes :}

Not so socially smart and strong,
That's why I like to stay between my walls,
It's a lot easier.. being you between ya walls, ya know?

I love to know, but am I capable at all anymore?
Lately I've gotten a little time-out,
And I thought it was a nice life treat (becuase, wow, obviously I've always been a lucky me.)
But now I lost my inner light, n my speed's somewhere at school & sixteen,

And I...hate all these I's... I use too much of those, don't I? sigh

So, well, here's my why: I enjoy writing because inside I'm.. just...

Well.
T.Swifting on my surroundings,
And 'my feelings, all my findings,
Schizophrenic analysis,
Drama addict's falls and lightnings,
A hundred more words off a Draddict,
But they'll fall out where the light's in,
And I struggle to finish my writings,
A quick toggle in the dark, a little change in heart,
This great flow of my voice... sometimes. I have to confess of my heart for the dark.
How did I get to write this section?
And since when do I blend songs & introductions?

My winter infection?

A little more than I should, I'm enjoying this dive down deep to the darkest dark. A little more than a little more than I should.