Him: I’ll love you forever!

Her: That seems a bit cliché…

Him: Well… forever will never die, yet we all must face the end someday. However, if I can cradle my love in the embrace of a forever, and perhaps we cross paths in another life, I would relish the chance to fall in love all over again.

Tell me,
what do you choose to live by –
Life’s script, or by Scripture?

The market crashed in my eyes – I can't afford buying a love that’s
blind. But maybe I’m a fool; and do fools in love, eventually wise
up without having to break apart? A mirage on my lips, making it an
illusion when I sometimes express how I really feel. Love’s decisions
so deep in your eyes; can be varying, but also along the lines of being
beautifully deceiving.

While waiting patiently under the moss; lacking the true roots to dig
deeper for the nourishment of love – oversaturated; growing in damp
habitats, and still trying to pretend being grass. To pretend love…
is it not a sin?

Some look for comfort in skin, other’s skin is the momentary comfort
to a nightly lover. When you hide yourself under their covers, do you
not know that we still see the shape of your shame – two bodies that
shake when they're in trouble.

I pray as a witness, that those who are in love, fully bare the weight
of love – the good, the bad, and hidden ugly. But more importantly,
that they bare the weight together; looking out for each other.

These closed eyes;
in all these unfamiliar times as it seems.
Closed doors, and shut curtains
over these once outside dreams.

Even when I'm out;
these fears have my mind in quarantine.

Sneeze!

Someone did so in front of me.
Without their bent elbow;
I was quickly thinking about the old ones
back home, of my family.

Never thinking I could lose count
of all those loved ones I've lost.
Not all through a pandemic,
but because of it;
a natural death hurts a lot.

Seems I've used up all the tears;
to cry out for another loss.

Sniff!

Only afterwards, you realize you didn't
spend time with them for that long.
All when their already gone,
but you still sing the memories like
a nostalgic song.

Cough!

Clearing my throat;
the heaviest heart I had to swallow.
So light of how lightly we take today.
You may not wake up to the bright day
of another tomorrow.

The beauty of life can easily
fade to whither like a flower.

How long do we really have;
counting your life on two open hands?
Praying for the Lord's eternal life's piece,
and it feels like he won't meet those demands.
You may feel your ideas starting to
hate the ways of his plans.

Lord I don't understand!

I just write down the questions;
in a list, on a scroll,
and bury the paper deep inside my soul.
The opening question being,
"was it you or the devil, sometimes in control"

Only in the heavens...will I know.

Let me imprint my love with my tongue,
speaking all of the words you've never heard before
And as one who has always experienced writer's block;
it's probably good of me to just go down town
But the streets are always unsafe, especially as a first,
a first for me, of saying less, but still doing more actions with
a mouth,

Knowing myself, I could start preparing before in a month,
as I know it all couldn't amount to much
Making a two plan meal out of you; always skipping brunch,
and would you come- to a place I should take you to
Or does it take a few more seconds of a numbing jawline,
to make you in the end feel so really good,

I never could, prove all my experience,
cos experience isn't all I have, at hand
So please don't get mad, if you find me looking up
to read your lips of what you feel at your lower lips;-
                                                   please do understand!

And would you accept me, feeling a bit down under
to go a little down under
Playing a little too much repetition, with a mouth stutter;
this person who is a newcomer, hoping you're a quick comer
Calling me out when I start feeling lost;
hoping by any chance I do have the right number,
And not to get too distracted by a hard wood, of my pants lumber,

                                                Let's see how this goes...

What little of you, bound by sacred oaths — we find two
spirits, familiar with the gales that lift us toward our
aspirations.

Do we not yearn for shared laughter, as the key for
equal peace?

This laughing note to our mutual harmony?

A melody of joy that ought to resonate, yet is drowned out
by the cacophony of man's war cries, throwing us off our
intended pitch.

Where have the noble minstrels gone, strumming a melody
to caress our beat souls—to exquisite listeners?

While the architects of unjust conflicts gaze down upon the
turmoil, their hearts untouched, as everything we cherish
slips away into the chasm.

Farewell, my beloved paradox,
that will forever linger in my thoughts and heart.
The memory of your captivating fragrance,
distinct and unmistakable, will forever stay with me,
patiently anticipating your fateful reunion- that I long
for with every fibre of my being. Come not so hurriedly,
yet in time- so as to have the gentle cadence of your footsteps
linger delicately in the passing hours.

Although the whispers of your presence evade my ears,
your essence reunites with mine once more. Across alternate
lifetimes, where fate doesn't guarantee romantic interlacing,
my affection for you transcends as a steadfast companion,
devoted beyond the confines of romantic love.

Spread joy in your smile; be it contagious! As when you see a man
raging outside in public, it begs the question to the eyes; “he's a bit
outrageous?" And even as you get too good at your ***** talk; leaving
a stain after every kiss – do remember, when you take the hand of a
man’s princess; you'd be wise to make her a queen.

As any fault in a man’s armour, becomes the perfect aim to his heart
and on his path, he walks with the info he has to better chart. And as
you try to do your part, to show honest, and non-faulted love; it can
feel short sometimes –

still... don’t cut yourself short, when the world hates to see you stand
tall. Won't you hold onto the assurance that your Creator stands taller
and always above it all.

Dye a picture of an ugly world to that empty gaze
—sort of like your makeup disguise; but not so much the
makeup for shallow beauty standards, overshadowed by
dark eyeshadow. As she puts on a lot of guard, that her
body feels like a suit of armour that emphasize flaws

While her eyes sparkle a quick romance; so much heat
coming out of her pores; hot sweats while he sits next to her,
calls her name, and glances her way… a nocturnal creature,
pressed against the heat of day, pressed against the wall, that
she broke a bottle of hot stuff in her back pocket; to claim
she had a fire ***

To be honest, he’s really the bigger *** of them both,
incapable of hiding his cockiness — pants caught down
they’re so outlandishly unlike; but that makes them like
each other more, and much like the petals that gracefully
descend to the ground: their story of love starts falling aside

But if I cannot place my faith in love,
how can I trust in myself?

But you can’t spell the word Love
without experiencing an L, pursing it.

As we adorn our hearts with L plates;
forever students in the school of love.

Every first kiss is like a cup of yeast;
raising our hopes for what is to come.

Yet, to yearn for more while offering
less in a relationship, is merely a recipe
for disappointment – a yeast infection.

There’s an imbalance when it comes to
your love life…

Could we, still taste the stains of tears on a collared shirt
–whereas you cried, while being embraced in their arms?
To every new lover, every smile is just a spark we both
seem so hopeful will last us long; never to burn out.

Still there isn’t a crash course to love – for when it comes
to falling in love; it feels so heavenly as if Heaven has
made your angel, that stole the last breath in your heart.

But what happens when they don’t smile as they did
before – when ten thousand sparks, is just pieces of dust?
It's the answer of whether it’s a lasting love, in what seems
to be a lasting time, of not feeling those sparks…

We’ve all known the feeling of too many passing loves.

The question, “Do I really miss you?”
feels like a weighty confession, but it often shows
I long for the days when I could call you my girl –
a title I never thought much of it before

The question, “Do I truly miss you?”
feels like a daunting truth, but it often shows
Missing someone is always a struggle –
but the emptiness of not having that someone
to miss, hurts a little more.

“Do I really miss you?” Absolutely, and I despise
that sensation; I wish to stop missing you altogether –

I don’t want to miss you anymore.

Your beloved, she calls
How then do you respond?
Your beloved, yearns
How then will you fulfil her?
Your beloved is waiting,
but do you search for her?

In the ocean of people,
she's an island to rest on her shore.
You search for love,
but what have you truly searched for?
Many speak of plenty fish in the sea,
what if your catch is in a lake?
You've searched far beyond corners that don't even exist. Could your beloved be much closer than you think?

She calls for you from her
heart. Do you hear it's beat?
She openly gives her heart
to you. Why child, do you still act as a thief?
She carries calm and structure to
your life. Why do you give her grief?
Her love is a home, a home
of sweet. But you belong to the street.

Till you learn to grow,
only will your love for her show.
Childish antics aren't forever,
but mature love will age with you.

Soon child,
you'll find your beloved when the time is right.

A taste of life:
green mangoes dipped in
vinegar and salt
None distilled moments
rising worries on top your head- a malt
You keep blaming yourself;
worried and pressed strain on cheeks
Squeezing in a sting of pain
as the first and long taste of something sweet

Pools of spit
flowing unrest in the society
of oppressed people
How not to speak in a place
that has you swallow a needle
The lethal poison of dying tastefully
******* bullets—oh what a steel
They robbed your opinion, with their
own stronger opinion over yours
It's always the problem of a bigger
world; you can never speak against a first
world country. Clench your jaws, and grab
a gun— we're about to fight their wars

The taste of blood
you taste out of a ****** nose
We're torn in our hearts, torn in
our clothes—killing the look of wearing
bullet holes
Gold digging in pockets by the mines
of minors—still a bunch of hoes
Growing up in the dark gardens made of
weeds. You've crowned yourself in shame,
but call yourself king and queen

The taste of failure in the world
the taste of expired goods in a first bite
An approach to running into conclusions,
delusions of subtle uneasiness, of seeing a
roach in a supermarket pie

It's like wanting to die, but not having the
means to afford a less painful suicide
So you keep pushing on in this distasteful
life —dying inside. It all tastes so vile!

Why won't my tongue go numb
to the displease of not tasting success
Failure feels like a chilli cough stuck
in your chest. Depends on how well
you can cope with being depressed

You'll acquire all the tastes you
like, but also know so well the tastes
so vile of life. All acquired tastes

I see the stars of the night; in the days of your eyes,
The winds behind mountains; in the power of your voice,
The ways to wisdom, in the words you once spoke,
The songs of promise, in the desires you've now fulfilled,
The provisions of daily, in the bread you've provided.

I've longed for love; that this world can't provide,
Tasted of all it’s things; that are sour to my spirit,
And lived in the world; despite being it's visitor.

I'm not of this world; for I know this is true.
I'm not of this world; for I know of YOU.

As of my shepherd; I shall not want,
As of my green pastures; lead beside still waters,
As of my restoration; lead in paths of righteousness.

                                        He is my all, my Jesus Lord.

I'm just the born sinner,
Being doing this same gig for so long, not even a beginner.
Pills and potions can't fix me for the long run,
Really I've been playing in all the childish games that's not even fun.

Empty out my pockets and tell me what you'll find.
Try face the Devil upfront but he's sending cheap shots at me from way behind.
And it's been constant back and forth, I don't even know anymore,
They keep saying we all rich, yet sometimes you wake up feeling a little extra poor .

And this is an alert, somebody go ring the alarm.
And we don't fight much, but pushed to wall we could do to you much harm.
Tell all my demons to move out of my way, have no time to entertain you all.
Lest if I could change my name to be reborn like The Bible's outspoken Paul.

Still chasing dreams amongst the unchased. Feels so nice.
To know people could drop thousands of dollars on you but could never match the price.

That's just enough to hear before ears start to bleed,
And follow to myself to be the good role model to the next man. Gain all the skills to lead.

Cutting corners on the empty roads with your Bible in your back pocket so you come prepared.
Almost  all of us are going to Heaven some day, some of us earlier than most  but we'll meet you there.

Alert, alert, alert, hear it loud and proud.
Alert, alert, alert,  open your eyes for the things that need to be found.

He bled and shed,
a crown of thorns upon his head.
A price greatly to be paid,
death yearned for us by our sins
But Christ Jesus took our places instead.

Wine of his blood,
bread his body.
Bruised and scarred,
He went through it all, for he greatly loved me.

I've cried through open veins,
bleeding out open wounds
And most definitely lots of pain.
Questioning a lot of, if God does exist,
why the existence of suffering in present,
In the present days of life,
failing to see the gift in living.

I've lived for wealth, lived for the pain,
but none of them did me well.
I did a lot to try pass the blame,
thinking it was all because we
were all living in Hell.

Cause if there's fires in this world,
my faith doesn't seem to be putting it out.
What's burning down in the world
is burning in me too,
It's all crumbling down.

I'm often scared of living,
and even more scared of dying,
Death seems to always be the easiest way out,
but won't guarantee I go out with
laughs and smiles.
Still living isn't much as easy thinking
about it,
Every opportunity you get always comes
with its trials.

So I live out my worth,
walking through a lot of fires.
Hoping not to get burnt.
Can't always expect to skip through life,
a lot of hurts always on repeat.
But I'm still here for a while,
won't leave to soon,
Even if there's chaos on the Earth

I'm stronger by each day,
each day is a growing lesson in every trial.
So if this is the journey of me,
let me pack my bags and walk through it
with a smile.

maybe good people do exist –
maybe we fail to see the good in people
maybe we fail to see the good in ourselves.

I'd feel like a stranger at my own funeral-
who's that in the box, dressed better in death
than I ever managed in life?
Better than my quiet attempts-those empty rehearsals
at suicide.

Was this the last chance I had left?
Even in death, my voice isn't heard-
nor the screaming ones trapped inside my skull.
Even my ghost wouldn't believe it's dead,
still hoping the lives I tried to save
might pay my way past the gates,
buy out my debts.

But what if there's no heaven waiting?
What if another kind of hell greets me instead?
What if I never see my old friends again-
never laugh without fear,
never smile without pretending?
What if I never stop
being so ******* afraid
so strangely ashamed
to feel nothing,
to be numb to even shame itself?

All I wanted
was to be born again-
not into some perfect life,
but one that wouldn't lead me
back to searching for another end.
And isn't it strange-
how only in death do we see our regrets
with such clarity?
Because there's nowhere left to run from them
once we get
to the end.

these tears welling up in my eyes, seem to rise up like yeast –
fluctuating changes accordingly to life circumstances; the circumference
of love appears diminished, hiding deep within the confines of a
bottle. that sanctuary of liquid comfort –
                                           a quiet solace, in a fleeting
sense of bravado that comes with embracing an intoxicating high.

bred amidst the layers of plump cushions of anxiety and worry –
here again, those tears once again threaten to surface like yeast, but
a persistent sense of restraint lingers. a barrier obstructs the natural
flow of my tears –

                                                  a yeast infection!

The stars aren’t so innocent;
Those surrounded in the twilight's dark
But when they all die off,
Who really witnesses their final spark?

They live in harmony, though with death –
As I stare at them following their emptiness;
If I must fall out of place, I’ll embrace that fate
Like a shooting star, taking the task with gladness;
Neither entering nor departing, a dark breath,
That quietly escapes out of my collapsed chest.

While my skin dissolves into dirt –
The very cradle of humanity’s birth;
My wet tears will burn scars upon my cheeks –
Never truly separated from things; but also,
never attaining the true meaning of peace.

                                      I’m all but a piece.

You may not see the final destination—
but every step, every fall, is part
of something forming. The direction
you're heading will always be patient.
Even when you feel sick from believing
you're stagnant, you are still shifting.
Still becoming.

Don’t worry! The silence has its own
voice. And the waiting has meaning,
even when it feels so cruel. In time—
it will all make sense.

The past you came from will become
a mirror. And your future self will look
into it and see how far you’ve really come.

a space to breathe – my ID is just a membership card
for the club of my nationality. rationally detailed;
but the details of it aren’t the details of my life

my identity formed in numbers, letters, and regional
placement – a birth verification code into a nameless reality;
social norms, laws to conform, my legitimacy by roadblocks
that is confirmed… how I wish it said I love to write poems

that I'm insecure of my self image in the mirror sometimes,
that ageing with grace, is more of a reminder of all the things
I wish I had done at a younger age – a collection of my desires
and experiences; the love I have to give, love I hope to one
day receive, all the places I hope to dream, a place…

sigh,




                     a space to breathe.

More than the breath of a sigh —
I shut the front door, draw the curtains of my eyes,
turning toward a long prayer, and hoping for a sign.
I sign my name on a sigh, to dot myself in doubts;
quietly trying to align the stanzas of my life onto
these right lines.

For someone's booming voice rising in prayer;
you lift yourself as a public speaker, while I hide
my own voice in a speaker box, in the back of my car —
playing the music of these dreams only you can hear.

While the sunlight sinks into my skin, inhabiting me
like a parable. I live inside the story of another mystery,
a hidden teaching I pray I’m not just listening to, but also
one I'm slowly becoming.

We are creatures chasing the simplest endeavours —
where lovers fuse together when they find their spark,
to blow a fuse when nerves are frayed, and ride the same
fuse that carries a car forward; an engine humming with fire.

To love more than skin and bones,
to write the story of our lives — immense enough
to bring me to tears, where the full plotline goes unseen,
yet I pray to God I can at least follow all my lines.

And in all of it, this is a feeling of being alive.

There’s a parachute stitched into my eyes— soft silk holding
nothing, as I watch myself freefalling into an empty space
The ringing words of love still call, like fading prayers –
as the voices of lovers trying to reconnect.

But I never was good at playing my heart. But aren’t you
expecting me to stay in character? To wear the lines you
wrote for me, in the means of keeping up this fantasy of love.
My smiles are scripted; as everyone else is helping to create
such a picture frame. The world helps paint our picture from
all the wildest of conversations; but the more they run out of
your mouth, the more they seem to taste so tame.

These tired eyes have searched in your eyes for a reflection
I can truly bend– so is the baggage claim of my baggy eyes;
visioning our broken pieces coming together to hopefully
mend.

I was your background character, your silent NPC in a game
you never knew I played, the first time. But when I stopped
watching, when I stopped turning toward you with secret
obsession – you started to feel the crush of my own crush.
Now you chase the echo of something that once held you
true—that hidden crush, that tender view, searching. But love,
my dear, truly YOU, should see how love is so **** blind.

Tell me if I read the language of your looks
then I would say you look so good in my books
I didn’t have much to say in person, but just love quotes
and I tried to wave you hello, but you must have been
on another boat

Teenage fever: is the heat of being in love so young
there’s a fire right through your skin- a burning glass
with that bright smile, to give jealousy to the rays of
the Sun

And I felt so wrapped in feelings just by your touch
like a ball of wool, my materiel of words all become
undone…

In the midst of a somber scene,
When emotions weighed heavy, it seemed,
Tears began their gentle stream,
Each drop carrying a taste, like morning's gleam.

These tears were not shed in haste,
But rather, in due time, they graced,
A heart burdened by life's uncertain race,
Seeking solace in his tears, and their vulnerable embrace.

As they flowed, his fractured reflection appeared,
Eyes once hopeful, now shattered and seared,
A mirror of pain and confusion, it cleared,
Inner turmoil, in hidden tears, was revealed.

In this moment of deep introspection,
Tears tasted like time's poignant reflection,
A reminder to let go, to find direction,
Like morning dew, cleansing the soul's connection.

And so, his tears marked a turning tide,
A gentle nudge towards healing's side,
Embracing vulnerability, as his tears implied,
Growth, renewal, a stronger self to abide.

Sigh…

I wish I had his Confidence
If only I had her beautiful Smile
I'd yearn for a piece of their Voice
To sing louder than the echo in my Heart
And dark glasses, to cover the tears in my Eyes

Yet…

I have all the confidence; I have such a beautiful smile –
I have my own unique voice; I have love in my heart
I have these dark tears, to make out my eyes…

But
    
My insecurity makes them all seem less than mine.

My mind is like a group home,
my thoughts need special attention,
And a lot don't know each other too well,
constantly asking where you're from.
I'd refund my life quickly
if I had a refundable coupon.

I cross the line like everytime
I go outside when I fake a smile,
I'm dead inside, but act so alive
for most of the time inside my life;
As I love to pass the time like it isn't mine.

A lot of people think that's strange,
well others tell me not to think that way.
But I can not escape,
how tortured I am inside dark
spaces of my brain.
Because I don't choose to complain,
I try to contain, all the crazy thoughts
that try to give me a strain.

I'm like a lace tied to my thoughts,
not supposed to leave my mind,
They stay there by default,
better them staying at peace
Than them to causing assault,
so I lock them inside a vault.
Throwing the keys away, making them ghost,
I'm a little mental, what I self diagnosed.

I might be ill,
thinking I'm sickened by my mind.
Within it there's silent chaos inside,
so if I open it up, it might not be
something you don't like.
But that also becomes my creativity by design.

So I'll just end this rhyme,
letting my mind rest.
I gave you food for thought,
hoping it's easier for you to break down
and digest.

"You lack a vision for your life,"
"You are drowning in your own ambitions,"
"Do you genuinely believe you will succeed?"
"I cannot see you going that far in this journey,"

"Is this truly your purpose?"

Careful of your words, for I may cast you
As an antagonist in one of my countless stories,
Being a narrative, the WHOLE world shall see –
For I am a Writer!

Nowhere in between,
I tried to call the Lord
Trying to reconnect;
haven't been to church
-in a while

So I'm must be missing
a bit of service.

ring, ring, ring

Is there anything out
there listening?
   I know I'm afraid of
    being lost,- I'm still searching.

Life has its many high notes –
a song of misery that works on itself,
It’s its own company, inviting anyone
to the party – misery always invites company

But the song of a friend’s love
isn’t so loud – it’s soft, reassuring,
something to count on, to help you recall
your worth – even if all you need is their company.

God fears no man – creator of existence, in the composition that
spoke life and oxygen to all you creatures. Some pray their prayers
as Christian, few times aloud as a victim – walking on surface of
earth, we crowd it with pollution for the nectar of wealth, spreading
seeds for what is made from personal growth – the birds and the
bees.

Pollinating the stigma to our young, that they have all the time to
be dumb. Hatching all of your fears to your son you call chum;
fishing the picture of plenty fish in the sea – did you at least
teach him how to swim. Figuratively!

Though quite literally; the bait of addiction is the idea that everyone
does it as a passage of growth. The world finds success in us
following a uniform message, their wickedness to clothe…

Us, against the world, though parts of the world believe they’re
greater than God.

If you jumped out of Heaven, how far would you fall,
to go through this hell for love. How far would you go?
Having all of the questions, but less of the answers.
More of the hard lessons, than you got from classes.

And how you see the world, depends on the shade of your glasses. When everyone is a slave to their mind, the thoughts being their masters.

A pretty dancer, at night, you seem so free when
you are out of sight. Out of the minds of judgement's view,
the only time you can be you. They've haven't known us for as long, to say that it's true. That we all could walk the same mile in the same shoes.

But I have nothing to prove,
but maybe to myself. That I could be anything; not relienent
on wealth. To take care of me, I'll be taking care of my health. And I could do all these things if I said so, but this everyday I live, drives me close to losing my mental.

But I'm open to ideas, like this opening verse.
So if you have advice, on how to keep me away from being
at my worst. I'd appreciate if you could spare a couple caring words. At least open up, to my opening verse.

As with those favoured by stars,
Proudest titles of boast,
Fortune resting on cunning smoked cigars.
In themselves, nothing is toiled,
Famed eyes in our sights,
Thousand victories never once foiled,
Look at pride, by chest of host,
Frown on they glory of self,
As are the lovers of oneself the most.
                                  Fame is then a beloved,
                                  As only by a removed heart.

It’s funny how I let you carry all my baggage – give it a few pennies
for thought; that’s your allowance to call me a scumbag.

And I might just sip fine wine, with tears pouring, while she makes
a fine whine – but I don’t know which one she wears the best, when
our smiles start to feel stretched out, as a ***** line.

But I should fill my heart, even when I don’t feel love at all; and does
gravity welcome us with open arms, when we start to fall in love –
who will catch us when we fall? And I don’t guarantee as much, the
guarantee of brakes, to stop someone from having another broken
heart.

Yet there’s falling in love, and falling apart – to having an encounter
with love; while making a count of all the times you though it was
true love.

There’s an account to the heart; the interest of heart, the sum of love –
how would you count yourself to be loved, if you only love to count
yourself out? Make your love count!

you deserve all that you have given
—in a world that takes, takes kindness
lightly. we live in a dark world
tossing their weight of heavy sin by
the stones building their walls
oh mr kindness,

             ....you deserve so much more

The profits, the blessed favours; the prophets and God’s flavours –
toss them all into the cauldron of my existence. May the Lord grant
me the wisdom to remain humble, to embody the spirit of a nurturing
father, a true leader only after learning the ropes of a follower. As I
journey forth, shall I tie those teachings into my path; from the chaos,
shall I pluck my beloved, out of the bunch, to be my favourite flower.

The silence, the powerful peace of power; the pieces of hurt resonate
with a deafening echo of remorse, there’s no need to answer. To every
son and daughter, embrace the legacy bestowed upon you by your
fathers and mothers.  – let the essence of your purpose guide you
steadfastly, no matter where your journey takes you, as you wonder.

I'll be in my room comprehending my own life
In between the thoughts of my own dead mind
I'd still find it better to stay high on more life
And if I come up first, I know I'll just finish last
Being stagnant as a prayer of person who won't take a chance
Just to switch up on my own perspective, seeing the first
Shall be last, the last shall be first, I hope I finish like that

More on the latter-er
Even fools try to skip a few steps to Heaven
But we all have to climb the ladder,
Not on these false prophets, men not allowed in God's capital
But tell me what's your real stature, or does nothing really matter
Like you been facing your own battles, but really your just battered

The sin with laughter, a recipe for disaster
While the Devil has an appetite for destruction
You're too busy filling up his plate, serving him like
he was your master

You probably use the salt of your life just give his
bowl extra flavour
And would act surprised when God spits you out
Saying you lost your flavour
You'll probably be crying, claiming God must have his favourite
But what's the favour to a favourite, when we were all created
so different, assigned to a nation
Still you do yourself the favour of debating
Whether or not there's a heaven, whether or not your soul needs saving

We feel it more important to save ourselves on preserving a golden life
Trying to tick what's more important in life on trying to live on the spoils that spoil your mind
And at the end of your life you'll feel the regret of your rhetorical question
Of how there's no golden ticket to Heaven

baby you should know I cry better when I’m alone –
and I don’t really like to have to long conversations on the phone,
if it means I don’t see you by tomorrow, and try to hold you close…

but maybe I’m just so good at being alone –
that any time I’m banking on potential love, it’s just a loan

living so low – the hopeless romantic,
and their romantic feelings sitting solo… even when
I’m fearful of love, it’s much scarier being so in love,
but in love all alone
               no one really wants to be alone

But is dying merely a rebirth within the echoes
Of another's memory, in another's mind
Forever lingering in another’s heart –
Being this forever last touch?

Death, is far from silent, loudly resonating
Within the echoing tears of the living,
Not so cold; those cherished memories
Of you, ignites smiles that envelop us in warmth.

Though, as much as we know you now
We realize we never truly knew you at all!
Even in death, the narrative of your once
Existence, is living in another’s memories –
As a depth far beyond what we could even hold.

Some people seem more interested in looking
for someone’s attention – rather than finding
Genuine love.

As they aren't truly searching for a person to
be their person; but just a person to satisfy their
Own hungers.

When a little boy cries, we hold him and tell him,
“it’s okay”
But when he becomes a man, we push him away,
“hey now, don’t be ga..”

Yet you’re happy to be everything to everyone, even if it
gives the impression that it benefits you the most – bend
a bone to break yourself, to prove you belong.

But if a man breaks down being honest; be honest, he has
to prove himself – that his tears really belong to his struggles,
to fully showcase everything that is so wrong, to leave an
impression on everyone.

The darkness has counted and held most of my tears, along
with my fears that one day they’ll all be revealed.

I don't know where I'm going,
I just hope that it's right.
Waking up 6am in the morning,
thinking about, "this is life".
She says our conversations are boring,
I know how that feels like.
All exaggerated feelings calling,
I don't listen to the hype.

Time to wake up for the day.

Everyday,
not as the same each day.
I just pray on this day,
to be a better version than yesterday.
Who cares what tomorrow says,
there's a chance I won't see it anyway.

But that's what it is.

Who you trying to deceive,
thinking life's that easy.
What do we believe,
the lessons of pain from our history.
But we can't have it cleared,
still clear your mind of the hurt.
What hurts now is real,
and really you should be putting yourself first.

Take it all.

Tour through the world,
cement your memories on the street.
Remember lessons you've been told,
search for good loving and your peace.
Have something to believe,
be the first when it's time to forgive
If you rested on all your worries as you live,
you'd be lying there in your deceit.

Enjoy the thrill in it's Prime.

Everyday's better moments are subtle,
so enjoy the time

Twas Sweet of sweet losing it's touch of love,
a synic course of nature forcing hungry more to starve.

Twas man who fell bringing down the world with him,
and being that it was planned, no other man would have dream.

Twas age who neitherless took the time to wait,
for Death who preyed upon the old and weak to put our lives at stake.

Heed to such words, and what tales the tell.
Ringing to your ears like an old church Bell.

For twas jealousy that man cast a stone to ****,
And his sin had only a price for another death to pay the bill.

Twas to be a son a sacrifice to prove his love,
And the new life was only through his Blood.

Twas a dying Tree that he died upon,
nailed on it till his life was gone.
And had left this world before the rise of Dawn.

But the lion could not be slain,
and by Jesus name, his rise was now that came.

Twas when the Earth had shook,
the Heaven's had cried.
For it was Truth,
the Risen King had no longer died.


Twas when man looked to the sky,
the skies begun to shine.
For the man once had him to deny,
But now was the time.

For the fallen Son had risen.
All sins were forgiven.

For he was risen,
the man of flesh,
For twas it Jesus.
Twas he who was risen.