My twilight dawns,
sparkling a piece in my eye. Could I see the very end
And O light of my eye, where has your lightness gone.

Could the very end be much closer as it seems,
Though it seems
a common denominator of all losses over wins
Though it seems
across the light bouncing up and down the bodies of rivers and streams,
Though it seems
like painted waters, and gleams.
Though it seems
to be found in the lightness of my dreams.

Now Dawn has risen upon that setting Sun
Time has left us all behind, but still isn't gone
singing words of encouragement but we ourselves shouldn't forget that song.

As Morning wakes
becoming a vessel for an empty space,
which I much prefer if I must confess.

Night has fallen upon,
robbing the light of day behind the sun
And I shun myself for often being found in the dark
But lightness only became as was when it went ahead of the dark.

Now my time is setting,
and at the end of it all what was my lesson.

In, and out, out, and in
breathe in and out, out of breath by letting
the toxic vapours in— coals of heat beating down
a ****** nose; won’t any of this sin, dissipate from
these constricted pores. Is he not still suckling on
love with milk teeth- how sheepish are his eyes, to
bleat himself of being silent

Oh, how my tears have been cleaved:
the sheer will that lives out on the streets- I’m well
fed & bred as a duck, spread out through time as the
covers of a bed: but where to rest on this old
mattress, now springing up  

                            (I’m still hiding your hands
                       far from the reach of feeding yourself
                the harvest’s spoils, to make your teeth rot—
Everywhere, their mouths are wide open as doors;
hinges for the bite of blight teeth- all doors are
portals judged by what comes out, but more so
what they must keep in

Pick at my thoughts,
lurking from the shadows.
DARK!
With eyes focused at the light,
end of the tunnel is narrow through a peep hole.
HOPE!
At the end of every struggle,
we're all fighting for just a taste of it.
WAKE!
Our dreams keep us fast asleep in the daylight,
Imaginations vivid of a kid wishing to change the world.
BUT,
His penny for a thought makes less sense
for the millions of ideas he has.  

LORD!
You see me an empty sinner,
sin I indulge in, leaves me feeling emptier.
I try to branch off from them.
LOST!
Like the child who hasn't found himself,
to busy living in the shadows of others.
Friends who can easily find love,
I'm stuck at trying to love myself.

HELP!
Someone save me from myself,
before I crash at the edge.
Screaming in my head, to the point I'm dead.
LOUD!
Cries in my inner fibre,
I'm bleeding much more inside.
I can not lie,
the broken people are more damaged inside.

REAL!
Are the words I write;
that echo in the corners of air pockets
These are all but,
LORD WORDS!

Time of my own lost in few hours.
Beating at an empty bush for pretty flowers.
It has no use,
What's its being but just self abuse.

Something I'm trying to prove,
Stuck up person, never keen to move.

Wicked I could be,
Knowing my name well, but do you know me.

They may know your face,
But not what you hide in your hearts empty space.

Wicked I am,
Some days I fall.

Equal much as strangers,
who wish they hadn't met
Minus the tension between us,
in addition to what is.
The love that made us,
higher above than what appears.

Multiplying in population,
divided by popularity
The power to change the equation,
is valuing everyone as a whole.

As a human race
we need to slow down
We're often too busy racing.
Can't rub away what we are,
neither man was born an eraser.

We're two almost of the
same kind.
But excuse me darling,
for being too much of a treat.
Hoping you don't mind

And like a treat,
I keep this verse short & sweet.

Carrying a fair number of tears, like carrying
a baby on her back; a nurturing bath of her scars
like a cat that is licking its new-born. She sits on top
of pride, quickly as humbleness calls a benchmark

Finding myself in the uncharted depths of her heart;
I see the cooling effect of one’s tears in mirrored streams
My nocturnal beauty, that must be loved in the shadows;
hiding away the bags of eyes, in the masks of pretty eyeshadow

She's priceless to every penny for a thought, she buries
all of her words, in kisses engraved in a passionate time

Pieces of a heart made out of yarn- narrations of silver tears,
from golden eyes; bronze is her place in seeking blessings
A hard rock, that is made soft by her gaze; water springs
out of it… but she’s only loved by herself after she’s loved
everyone else

Rusty finger nails pierced into the
walls of scratching the night
There's an ear hole of your own accord
bleeding over your hearing of that pain-
Waiting at the back of your dreams; you
probably lived your whole life in a taxi
You've been overdue for love,- their really
owe you taxes; as your face held a field of
all your tears, to water the after pastures

You shrank away grasping onto old figures
of yourself- you had a crush for someone for that
long, that they crushed you under their thumb,
and from those skins is where you bled

            "We can only be friends,"
                                                they said

Give me a handful of compassionate lines to a poem
even as I lay panting with scorched hands- I still
hold the purpose of holding her hand; the love
of my life with her beautiful eyes- a muse of things to
write; being an ignitor of tenderness; she rains
down a well full of dreams- a shower of stars
As the spark of our love has given us both a
flammable night, ...illuminated all in an instant

Do pay attention to a love mate who comes to you,
for in these modern days, they seem so, so few…
a thousand may come my way, but even a thousand
more could ever add up to the worth of my very first poem

The days pass by in their own magnificence —
that brilliance of a radiant sun, illuminating
all around with its natural intensity and warmth.
But fortunes now stand as a beacon of their unparalleled
richness, so akin to perfect health, while hearts wear
their emotions openly on their sleeves, displaying an
unwavering untrue transparency that desires to still
captivate the world.

Deep within the hidden recesses of their beings lies a
dream, delicately tucked under the protective shelter of
their collarbones, waiting to blossom and unfurl into reality.
Connections to the past linger like ties to neckties
well-hidden beneath the surface, silently influencing
present actions and future paths.

Despite the passage of time, some still find themselves
immersed in past troubles, carrying a heavy burden symbolized
by the chip on their shoulder, gradually accumulating into a
weighty packet as age advances. With each passing year, the
resistance to healing grows stronger, manifesting as a cold
shoulder turned towards the prospect of finding solace
and restoration. Cold souls under the warmth of the Sun.

If I put my thinking cap
in reverse to think back,
On the worth of my penny thoughts
how much am I getting back?

Sparing the poor man a coin
who sold me his cap gone to spoil,
For one last meal in his belly
before he goes to be with the soil.
What will be the worth of that coin?

Surely for each penny for my thoughts
gives for him lots to be bought.
Or am I as poor as he,
Spending the worth of time only on faults?

Who then am I to say I've done good with time
thinking back shows it's a lie
I'm poor, for poorly using up my time,
obviously so because I couldn't afford a cap of mine?

How so then, we love to waste the time
all with a ****** attitude.
Truly how isn't such an act an act of crime?

i.

By chance,
I'm really not that good at giving his thanks.

The moment is equal to the words I should say, but sometimes things never really add up,
And in my case no addition to the cause subtracts the total worth.

Please excuse me though I may tend to act up.

By chance, I wouldn't know how best to express myself,
Unless if I was somebody else or playing pretend on myself
I guess until I would only learn how to stop copying somebody else,
I can be my own self.

By chance,
I wouldn't know how to stop myself from falling in love.

And the chances of me not showing it aren't too many,
I do apologise baby,
My apologies are always so plenty.

But you and I will choose to play the game,
flattering ourselves that we were in love.
And yes darling feeding yourself dreams still makes you starve.


But why are we these beings,
falling to love.
Cause human beings can't function to love another if they can't love themselves.


ii.

But it can take the whisper of dark,
falling onto the cold nights,
that you may toss my comfort away from your side.

A slow measure distancing man from God,
in our case man from woman.

The butterfly knot would then be surely untied,
you wouldn't expect less of me,
Cause you'd expect me to tie a new knot of making you bride.

But my only possible fault,
being too afraid to commit
And one's added failure is to not point it out.

Still never distance yourself from these warm truths

Distance may let you grow,
cold and old.

Spinning round my head,
losing the track of time.
Like falling off my feet,
barely walking on the line.

Only feeling sorry for myself,
selfish as I am.
And if you're ever feeling
sorry.
Be sorry for the man.

For my greatest enemy,
is on the other side of a mirror.
As the Brave are always
little,
And many is our Fear.

A prideful person looks
Into a mirror without glass —
Because pride won’t let you see
The truth staring back.

Filled in a glass of fancy
rising occasion rising to the skies
A glass of wine
smooth & etiquette, a maturity of fine.

Raise a glass to Heavens above
clearing my throat to make a speech
Gather around all to hear of my preach

A lot of the life you had gave
wasn't all but your own hand
Life is saved, but not to be spent out later

So don't let the greatest thing you've said
only be layed out onto the world while
you're laying on death's bed.

You let only be seen
of your every good deed
But turn it over by acting so mean.

Why though, is such a thing?

Learn to stop playing pretend
it's only an act of cowardice
Leaving a bad example to the descendants
wondering what a true hero is.

Your best example should be early told
stop waiting on young age
to do something for yourself
Age will always be a number,
but we all grow old.

Life feels almost like a test
exercise your rights in being you
And the result is finding much needed rest.

You'll pray on your feet
fall sometimes, but stand again
Still there's worth in all of these things
we go through our weaknesses but emerge
afterwards as stronger human beings.

So raise a glass to that & make a cheers

Strange how I knew you
little,
Yet think of you long.

Youth must be like
the oceans,
It comes at first little waves,
pulls back and returns bigger.
And before you know it,
it's gone.

How goes the youth,
how goes it away from us.

I wish I could tell you, “I love you”
just one more time— but the way our lips met,
I sought your forgiveness, not your consent. Still it
feels like an eternity since our last embrace; that gentle
warmth enveloped us, as those flushed cheeks beneath
my hand still had time to glow…
…

Let me look into those sparkling tears one final
time— cherishing the fleeting moments we shared, doesn’t
that memory feel extraordinary? Yet, when I falter, I often
convince myself it’s simply because I’m a man, but my
intentions are pure, by my arm and hand, just struggling
by the want to hold a bit too long

Open to a kiss as we speak; tasting the bittersweet
harmony of your love and sorrow in a single breath.
Yet, I wear a facade of a smile—mourning the kisses
and whispers that have slipped away on the wind, while
a trace of heartache lingers on my lips.

I found myself unable to express my emotions once
more, or perhaps I was simply repeating the
same sentiments.

Compare the old ways to the new,
and "a lot has changed", as we'd like to say.
But change was always meant to be a cause
for change comes by the day.

The old will always criticise the things of the young,
the young give them plenty reason to think we're dumb.
In this time of ours,
we live in a time of things looking so pretty,  
but not as a pretty smell of flowers.

What's in it for love
before we even learn to love one another.
And what's left of this very time
that has never kept the very moments
of making everything yours and mine.

In this time of ours.

What a strange time it is,
it's a time where every being only has one fear.
What a pandemic.

In this time of ours.

Do you ever ever question the time,
or you never never really do mind.
If so it's fine,
still never complain when everything stops,
when you run out of time.


In this time of ours.

Pain is a story that I can't tell.
while my heart stays burning,
before it's witnessed the fires of Hell.
My mind is only trapped in a cell,
that I've built myself.
And who knows my very torture,
unsurprisingly there's somebody else.

Human pain is just a colour,
in every person a different kind of shade.
The pain that you've made.

In this time of ours.

The past is gone,
the present is unsettling,
While the future seems unwarranted.
Each day comes,
leaving us to be stuck on worrying.

In this time of ours.

What does time expect of us,
and what do we expect of time in the near future.
What's to come next?
Something good I hope,
from all the pain and cruelty.

Utter no word,
rather have your heart be the one to speak.
The beauty in your silence can calm the winds of it's many tiny whispers,
A beautiful artifact in the treasure of love,
so be like a jewel in the eye of true worth.

For I only say this to remind you of you're worth,
And never let any man think of you any less,
nor let any other compare you to perfection.
No one in this world is that perfect it,
but everyone in it are all worth it.

Utter no word,
rather let your beauty echo out what wishes to be heard.
Let the echo bounce back into the ears of the very people who need to hear this song,
And let us sing along with you till the waking of new Dawn.
Flesh will grow old, but this Beauty inside will forever remain so young.

Utter no word,
for your soul is the one to speak,
As it speaks so highly of you.
Why then should you be so low.
Or incapable to love, when you already love yourself enough.

Barely would a whisper have spoken,
still the words themselves can't be enough to describe your Beauty,
The only few words you need to hear is,
you're so Beautiful.
So don't close yourself on the notion, just constantly keep that heart open.

This child has the strength like their father,
the gentleness of their mother,
And with your own abilities it makes you like no other.

Who holds no regret to the odyssey of their beauty,
and never grows tired on their feet as they head towards there.

So walk your Journey. Walk along this Beauty's Odyssey.

As we are under the shadowy guise of white,
let the echoes of your dreams resonate in your ears;
tears softly trace your cheeks in the dim light.
A smile twitched on your lips, often pretend yet
familiar—could it be that amidst the crowd,
I found myself falling for you?

Our gazes locked, a silent yearning hung in the air,
and a mood quivered to be kissed — losing the bass
of a voice; my own chest forgets how to speak,
I’m lost in the depths of my own heart.

I’ve whispered prayers to myself, as your smile
illuminated the moment, and I only heard in a poem
that someone could impart the whisper of their
desires by a kiss planted on someone’s lips-
for their dreams to grow

Ensnared in the crossfire of emotions, the sun
poured its golden rays into my very being, liken
to the fatigue of someone’s else wet dreams, you’ll grow
tired swimming through them at every stroke. So, before
we embark on this journey, hold tight to your essence,
as the days of flesh once again weave their memories,
igniting a spirited hope for what lies ahead…

Mistakes we make plus
the responsibility taken equals growth.
And if there's any strength from it,
are we all not at least strong.

Subtract the negativity
from positive,
Multiple it and your product is
a lot to be thankful for.
And once you divide it all,
there's a lot of happy memories,
to share with those involved.

Equal to the time of life
you have,
Is equal to the lessons we can teach.

But if we were to give it
more power,
What more would you get?

Where are the words,
any really.
Where are the words,
really I don't know.
Where are the words,
round the corner of Writer's block.

What are my thoughts,
between them.
What are my thoughts,
I don't know what to pick.
What are my thoughts,
any empty suburb of Writer's block.

Why am I blocked,
obstructed as.
Why am I blocked,
I don't know how to solve such a Rubik's Cube.
Why am I blocked,
because I'm stuck on the outskirts of Writer's block.

To each stroke of luck—these strokes run wild,
painted with ambition. Life is a wondrous garden:
to some, every bloom is beautiful, to others, the
loveliest things are guarded by thorns.

What looks like harmony can be smeared on
an ugly wall. The signature of familiar pain—
it’s often signed as a lover.

Two met by eyes, blush.
Two lips in love, brush.
Two weights of emotion, crush.
And the quickest reason to fall? A rush.

And long indulged is the ego— eager to rise
above itself, but low on accepting its flaws.
We are a world painted in delicate watercolours,
slowly dripping away from this life, until we no
longer remain as unique colours to paint this world.

Still—they will remember our impression, through
the force of our expression. And when we’re gone,
on the great canvas in the sky, we shall hang up
there instead.

Visions of death,
a love letter I wrote while dreaming about suicide-
She was in love with herself, and I loved her
to death; a slow cause to my own demise

Money come in a little
more quarters,
You'll be acting changed,
feed a beggar a little,
He'll always ask for more,
put your trust in a liar,
And you'll never find rest.

Surely Instead,

Money should never change you,
you change how it's used,
Do more by a beggar,
and teach them how to work for their own.
Line out all your friends,
and path through the trusted ones.

Less is more,
more or less waiting for a lot in store.
But just for you babe, I'm looking forward to having a little more of you.

Probably you know me best and how I easily break,
putting a lot at stake to glimpse what's hidden underneath that sunny dress.
Hoping that what I'll find is as bright as you.

But I shouldn't care much for things I really can't see,
though having my eyes stuck on you isn't the best view of life for me.

But life is strange,  that we're always stuck on something,
stuck in between loving you more than loving myself, honestly that shouldn't come up to just nothing.

So like a short verse bleeding out of my pen,
I've bled out carelessly for past loves, that it makes me wonder if I'll ever fall in love again.

I worry about my family
before myself.
My friends before myself,
loved ones before myself.
Anybody really before myself,
and don't even worry
About myself.

So when I pray for provision,
I really need it,
Vision in troubling times,
hope I see it,
Stretch out my faith,
hope I believe it.
While acting a constant sinner,
hope I'm forgiven.

Times are troubling,
as is this life.
Hope seems plummeting,
as is this life.
Man is wondering,
as is his life.

So in prayers like this,
I hopefully ask to receive.
During my life like this,
I'm hoping the Lord still gives.

Provisions for those around
I love,  I only do request.
As we're down on the little left,
provisions from you is what
We need next.

I knew a girl —weathered by the kind of life that
doesn’t  warn you before the storm. Still, she tried
to keep a spring in her step — but smiled like cheap
paint on a fading wall, peeling off, little by little,
every **** day.

She told me: "We don’t own enough to be claiming it all."
She’d hold onto the hands of time like it owed her
something, clocking in for the kind of love that clocks
out as soon as it settles in your mind.

And I swear — it was always the careless water she
feared the most... the kind you drown in without
noticing —a pretty smile, a warm voice, the open
door that leads you straight to your own unraveling.
I watched her from that doorway — wondered which
room of herself she let people sit in.

Was it the heart —that wicked room where love
rushes in faster than you can catch your breath?

Or the soul — too expensive for lips that try
to bargain it down with sweet nothings?

Maybe it was the skin —that kept aching for touch,
even when desire left bruises where tenderness
should have lived.

Or the mind — God, the most attractive part of her,
modelling strength on a runway of thoughts that walked
out daily for the world to judge. And maybe the reason
her story broke me was because I saw myself in every
cracked wall she tried to paint over, and over again.

We are all just houses hoping someone might stay
long enough to know the rooms we rarely let them in.

The struggle for freedom
is strong as foreign winds.
A shout from the South to the North,
all who have fallen to be free.
Buried beneath this earth of the East and West.

Has it not become to those
of you apparent,
The disease beneath our flesh,
widespread within us all.
A freedom epidemic,
affecting the many captured hearts,
Widespread as a pandemic.

Those who know of such,
never stopping the fight
Only till they're are dead,
leaving those behind alive to continue on the battle.

For as the children now of our forefathers,
we bear to spread freedom
as they once fought for.

A plague of freedom,
children of our forefathers,
We've become the nuisance against constraint.

Be widespread,
widespread of a Plagued Freedom.

When is “enough” enough?
When doing too much ≠ enough. It falls somewhere
between “you care too much” + “you’re not doing a thing.”
If I say it with the sharpness of heart, it still lands blunt.
And I don’t want to come off like I’m doing a stunt
or overstaying my welcome.

But what is enough when doing nothing
starts to look like too much? —You ever feel like
the *** on the street —living on love that isn’t
concrete? Built on hope, but the cons increase.
They say it’s home, but the rent’s called unease.

Is there a way to multitask love —
a multiple of itself in a multiplied path?
A multitude of love in a multiverse math…
but it never really adds. Because it subtracts —
you. The more you give out ÷ the less you get back.
Yeah, it’s a trap. When you’re solving for X
but losing Y. Then you carry the one, but forget the why.
—
So I ask again: When is enough enough?
When devotion is debt, and love's just a sum
of what’s left. It’s never enough. But it’s always
too much. A pointless cost we still call Love.

Life needed to come
with a bulletproof vest,
Couple stitches and blasters,
really anything to protect my chest.

The wake in your eyes still tells me that you’re tired –
trapped in the grip of haunting dreams even as the day
breaks with its hopeful light. There’s a sense of lifelessness
in you, as the slow decay in your eyes dims your vision…

In the midst of learning to love yourself, what value does
wealth hold when it only feeds the greed that festers within?
Your skin feels icy, like the jagged edges of rusted nails
brushing against mine…

If you can still muster a smile, let it be for yourself,
even if it stings. This smile is yours alone, born from deep
within. Maybe not today, but one day, you will find your
way back to feeling whole- A way back to me.

There’s a perfect smile drawn from a shadow
-as it suppresses memories far sanguine to the mind,
at times we marvel at the stars; looking up to at
what we could be: though we are bright stars filled
of many, many scars

Dreams lost in mirrored streams; cascading days
into one another- tears lost in a serene night;
your luminous eyes could never tell enough of your
tragic story; as their naked glances bear witness to
other people’s perfect stories, who see other people’s
perfect stories

They seem to carry a proud radiance; it does seem
that way, if you don’t really know the full depth of that
story— there’s a darker majesty behind that perfect
smile with mounds of earth covering over their trembling
vein, and unyielding flesh, to come under self-control

Realize who and what you are,
before the world claims it to be.
You are what words
speak of you.
But realize amongst ten thousand tongues,
which one tells the Truth.

Things written on our hearts
become like scripture.
What you read into the most,
the mind starts to believe.
As what's in your heart,
your actions show for the world to see.

So realize such things
for such are what we are,
As human beings.

Flipped ideas and concepts,
flattery of the heart, and excuses not to make.
We're all these things and many more pouring ourselves out by the upside-down.

Hey there brother,
what's with the frown, what's with the tears.
Never heard of the upside-down flipping those feelings right back around.

Thinking it meant you feeling better,
but stop playing pretend cause not every advice you get is like a friend.
The world is tough, and tougher when you toughness isn't matching the measure.

So maybe flip the world, letting the bad hang over
But I can't promise all the bad will soon be over,
Still all the bad pushes us to the good to hold it closer.

But you may feel flipped yourself,
cause the world itself enjoys to flip us over.

Still don't hang onto it's ideas,
you  may hang yourself just for it's pleasure.
And it may give you every reason to say you're nothing special
But a broken world can't know it's worth to determine if you're treasure.

So maybe stick to the balance of things,
away from the imbalance that probably haunts your dreams
And cares nothing of who really wins.

Stick to the sky, for the grip of things,
And I know it seems hard, but it's never as hard as it seems.

Just try your best to hang onto your dreams.

You are a honeyed vessel
Where nobility is born
As time fills it up, until it
Overflows with sweetness

An eye for nurturing life,
As a caretaker who stands firm,  
Adhering to my heart, as your
Tender love’s warmth unfolds

The void in your gaze will no longer
linger in your mind – we are merely silhouettes
in the daylight and the shadows of night; all our
skins woven from the fabric of midnight, and
each a unique hue of time.

How wondrous it is, the way we shift,  
Like seasons turning, giving life a lift.  
Yet more enchanting is the way we feel,  
As transformations weave a poignant reel.

For just as storms may brew in skies above,  
So too do changes stir the hearts we love.

i.

Painted scars,
displaying a beautiful tragedy

A dream taken away,
other's never had one to have
And so in both our eyes,
we could see each person so sad.

Two broken pieces,
trying to fit together
If you could feel your worth,
but failed to see the treasure
Alas
If you could hear your love,
but never taste your kisses.
Alas.

Perhaps you weren't nosey enough,
to scent out more of you.

Still during your time,
you wished for something
But three wishes had given you nothing.

Alas


ii.

Back then I was
going out into the world
finding what's out there.
Soon fell out of place.

I took a trip into the world,
leaving a lot behind.

I left a man with morals,
never thought he felt important
Never had a dream,
always stood woke
Left the joy and laughter of company,
wasn't one to take their jokes.

Found my seat on a train,
heading nowhere
Glanced at my reflection only once,
As once was only enough
so careless of me to say, but I never dreamt of such.

Alas,
these painted scars.

Christmas nets to catch
my wishes,
Christmas lights to see
it all
Christmas angels to give
me wings.

Just to fly away
and catch all my dreams.
Just to fly away
and let them light my way.

If I don't live tomorrow
let me live today.
Though I know much sorrow
my gift is knowing it's all going to be okay.

Change I want,
like last a penny I'm afraid to spend.
If I change right now will
it benefit me in the end?

Change is an experience
yet to be felt.
Never too ready for such a concept,
change to me is a quarter yet to be dealt.

Such is self change.
How do I spend it in the end?

Feels like the first time, we ever really kissed,
shooting my shot, and I knew I wouldn't miss.

Cause I, need to take a moment, while I find my composure,
cause I write my feels when I feel the moment.
And no I'm not joking, everyone lies, but I preferred when you lied to me closer.

And though it may seem things are over,
growing out of love by the days I get older.
Still I hope the feeling of love never turns over.

I mess up sometimes, my goes messy,
I'm scarred for anyone to come undress me.
Cause I know what's inside, lot of things I hide underneath my pride,
but I know everybody has days to cry.

O' My,
why do I feel this way.
O'My,
I've been only feeling strange in every way,
O'My.

I **** up a lot of smoke inside my lungs,
and no it's not a joke, I feel kinda dumb,
thought you were one, but love ain't for everyone.
O'My.

But given this time I find myself before I find new love,
and not by the end of my wealth do I fall in love again,
O'My.

Goodbye, have a great time,
see me outside so alive while I'm dying inside.
Still really never find. Given this this time,
I'll find something when I leave this all behind.

O'My.

You and I – companions, yet at times adversaries,  
we are akin to the stubborn clash of oil and water:  
elements repelling one another, yet bound inextricably,  
Unable to sever the ties that bind us, no matter how  
tainted our love may appear with each utterance of devotion.  

“I THINK I’m in love,” a phrase that sends shivers down
the spine, as daunting to voice as it is to ponder; a relentless
battle within oneself, questioning the authenticity of such feelings.  

“Do they feel some kind of way?” becomes the haunting
echo in our minds, as we yearn to be known as “us.”

Yet, while “Us” dances seductively in our thoughts,  
a luscious word, what of the truth that resides within our hearts?

I'll only get better,
growing old with you.
It's Love and a Rose both growing,
between many summers, it's fall
and springing up again.
You and I are just a bloom.

I am Love and you my Rose,
amongst the prettiest flowers,
I picked you out hiding in the shade.
As I held you in hand,
I felt your blossom.

As did I pick into my thoughts,
your sharp thorns picked into my heart.

As did the rain fall,
I too did fall.
As Love I've searched for growth,
and as Love I poured down myself onto you,
And it showed me worth.

As a Rose,
you found aid in my hand.
For as a Rose you're a beauty
looking for someone to dearly care of you.
For if True Love fails to pick you,
Love has failed at it's task.

And if man is too afraid to search
for love and their Rose,
They too have failed at their task.

Glances at the sky tonight,
seems only to show me peaceful violence,
Look at the falling rocks of so many shooting stars this night.

Too many lights in the sky,
how isn't the world as bright,
How we act to lose ourselves in the dark,
yet there's still these lights at our sights.

The scars on your heart,
are from shots straight through your chest
Lead your life for no-one else will play your role,
our greatest pain is our own regrets.

You have to know what's at stake,
and eat it like it's a last supper.
Can't keep believing that you're a mistake,
because life doesn't come with a rubber.

Don't try to be what you're not,
and tie yourself into people's views.
Don't pay your way to the top,
the fall costs more when you lose.

Acting cheap won't keep you safe,
so save yourself the time.
Don't live in things not of your place,
it will soon turn sketchy when you're out of line.

Inhale the air by the moment,
exhaling out life.
For death comes unexpected,
when you die no human can call it.
So before then don't be the one left when all others did things right.

If you can't keep to what you say,
stick to what you can read.
If you want to complain try and do it after you pray,
see by then if you still don't believe.

And if life gave you a quarter,
how would you spend it?
Don't hide behind a smile,
you'll be only a poser.
Have only hate to say to a person, best not say it.

Good company is not always a given,
while bad we quickly run to.
Nothing can be done if keep on wishing,
and these words I've written is my advice to you.

You choose whether to take it,
or leave it be.
You choose whether to share it,
or leave it be.
You choose whether to declare it,
or leave it be.

Choose of your own will, not of others.

Those who rise,
have known how it feels to fall.
And those with eyes,
see the most than all.

If there's a rising,
rise above if you should.
If there's a rising,
don't mistake the strength you have for being less than good.

There's a high rise in the Highlands,
we rise above any hurt.
Count up your blessings,
and you'll find a life filled with so much hope.

The Highlands rises with the sun,
never setting on our dreams
For such a time hasn't come.

As I know I'm not the only one,
who sees a rise in the upcoming seasons
of everyone.

Rise like the Highlands,
higher than your feet can lift you.
Never fall into your hurts,
just stand tall in all of them.
The hate of the world is strong,
but the essence of love is what rises
stronger in you.

For those who rise,
we rise to highest heights
Defeat the doubt in your hearts,
and conquer the fears of your mind.

This the message, for those who rise.