You'll desire a love;
that could feel like Heaven,
truly in this Hell on Earth,
surrounded by desires of a party life,
One hell of a night;
in those searching empty eyes,
in this hell of a life.

Are you not lost in the hype,
in the darkness of your soul,
searching corners of circles;
in those nights?

SIN!

Seriously In Need;
as the letters broken down...
You're broken too,
as they would pray on aching knees,
truly child, all for your wellbeing.

SIN!

Stuck In Nights,
like the endless one within,
Hating to wake up in this nightmare;
shedding tears all in your few,
favourite dreams.

I look back;
to this frame behind;
the picture of a past,
Seemingly holding onto grips;
held in an echoing bleeding heart.

And how can I not help but smile,
reflecting on this scar,
Of a past I've known;
all to say-

"you've truly come so far"

Now in these eyes, petrified, terrified, suicide,
In all the walks of life, fighting only to survive,
A man's pride is weaponized; his failings widely televised,
All the moments of love's bitter sweet,—by what we gingerfy,
Love is red; putting yourself out there to be hurt and jeopardize,
Learning from past mistakes,—change of character we gentrify.

Oh the next line; follow suit of a route to death wrapped in a necktie,
We envy to say "hie," but are accustomed to saying short goodbyes,
As life is a constant trial; walking court cases with a confident smile,
"Guilty or not," all of my shortcomings I press on in their denial.

I've walked a thousand's,—in a mile of every breath of time,
Though I haven't lived a while, I've seen plenty in these eyes.

One hundred and five times going to make mistakes
And that's just the count of one day
Guess it's so hard for me to maintain
An appreciation of this above grace
Constantly going back to my old ways
No sense of care behind that repentive prayer
Why repaint that sin in another quote promise's shade
Promising this time to stay away from doing it again

It's high time I repented seriously in my next prayer

Living life by a corner store;
buying into people's ideas.
Till my pockets grew empty,
and I was still searching for more.

Kids riding up and down the street,
not knowing much, just good at
disturbing the peace.
Memories we like to hold,
are probably the ones like our first kiss.
We went through times watching the stress of these adults.
Parents fighting each other,
thinking it's all our fault.

Never grew up with much,
had to make it feel like it was a lot.
Every gain we had, came with it's equal loss.
All the mistakes we made,
soon later came with a cost.

From acting shy around pretty girls,
spinning our words to impress them.
But too busy caught up in their curls.
As teens, promising to give them a world,
we knew we couldn't afford.
Spending our free periods in class kissing girls cause, we were bored.

Skipping a few classes, thinking in life we could skip ahead.
Telling each all the lies we rest in everyday,
always backing up your friend.
Teachers calling us out for not
being serious,
We didn't believe their words,
those words weren't really us.

Sneaking into clubs before eighteen,
sipping substances from brown bottles.
The times we had, we were surely wasting.

First few times we were smoking herbs,
pulling hard puffs, till we were disturbed.
Out of luck at times,
when we didn't find love or comfort.
Regardless of the cost,
we'd spend hours on gaming, all through the summer.

Boys feeling like men when we busy getting hooked on ****.
The start of our addictions, and the hunger of flesh was what showed.

Fitting in with the crowd till you found yourself,
realizing we don't have forever this youth.
But we didn't treasure it's wealth.

We're all adults now, and this adulting life at times *****.
Eventually I'll have to find love,
but falling in love really hurts and cuts.
With the fears of not giving her enough.

But we're adults now,
look how far we've come.
Can't runaway from the responsibility,
else we'll all be on the run.

This is the tale of growing up.

Spoken word: the resting tongue laiden on potential thought.
I exclaimed, "I am, a poem," loudly as courage lets the heart
be bold in her voice.

She is love, but often wicked and rough.
A cup you fill of often watered down emotions. Do you focus
onto past or present experiences,—or are experienced in growing
a worthwhile future? I attest to myself of a testimonial; in these
dreams I've perceived.

Do see I firstly before you see just some random guy. I am
bright,—as two suns crashing into each other; that the stars
witnessed in awe. I am spoken word, a poem of endless words.
As you see less of me, so shall I give them more.

I am, a poem.

"Take that sorry and swallow it; like the first spit of the morning. 
That holds around your neck by; the grips of life.

Your sorry's are so out of hand.

But does it hold anything, if I'm not touched in the first place,"
I had asked her. But it felt like I was asking myself more of why
I couldn't accept her apologies.

A shadow calls-
vexed by whisper
In the night;
as I hear echoes of pity.

Through blackest eyes;
seeing nothing in-
Vast openness;
and at its center,

                     A bird.

Brokenness resting
on closed wings
Prisoned to ground;
stretching hand to her

                          But;

She takes nothing-
of my helping aid
The sky;
has betrayed her;
Once she had loved

Each day passed;
I came to feed it love
By the crumbs;
each piece was strength

                          Until;

A day her-
wing could stretch
Flying highest to
tomorrow, and beyond
The black bird;
once again, became her

                       Fired Phoenix.


And so;
a light of hope
Lost in world's dark;
once again found her

                               Spark.

To live better for an ex, what an ugly sight,  
Heartbreak fuels change, day and night.  
Love's once gentle embrace,  
Seems so lost in this after race,  
While masks hide the truth from the light.

“I never really needed you anyway,”
Doesn’t that face dare to say,
But the mask covering your heart –
Isn’t that an ***** that has so much to impart,
Having so much more to say.

wet skin to skin; a tightly gripped kiss - urged lips
that surely wished they had spoken their feelings first,
then to seem like they’re both trying to quench each other’s
thirst. still shivering in my nerves that I’ve grown so lost
for my words – trying to find my identity in your eyes surface
              ...you look too beautiful for me to even claim

it’s my own shame, that sticks on my throat like a smoker’s
cough – though this love sickness is worth the bit of irritation,
of not always knowing what to do when I’m so close to you
                     ...so yes, I held you, and kissed you

but that wasn’t the initial plan; you rested in my arms and I
had my words for you ready and armed – but my hand in it
all had lost its touch. darling this is so much of a rush for
just a simple crush, to us finally going out, more than once
       …I just wish that from the beginning, I had told you,

                                                      “I think I’m in love”

Bit the taste of thunder;
you're not afraid of it's bark?
Stood still in everything falling down;
there's lightening in those eyes;
Showing you and I have a spark.

You and I; have the reins to love.

I could intensely sense the metallic tang
of blood coursing through her weary eyes,
painting a vivid red picture of agony and despair.
It was as if the very essence of life had transformed
into a distasteful reminder of mortality,
akin to the off-putting sensation of morning breath.

The realization that death could manifest itself
within one's very being caused a shiver to travel
down my spine. The odorous assault of decay
lingered in the air, assaulting the senses with
each blink of an eye, echoing the macabre scene
painted by the stained marble floors,
a canvas of violence and loss.

There are moments when I yearn to hold onto
you as a means of seeking stability in the chaos
that surrounds us. Love, often described as a blind journey,
leads me to close my eyes at times, attempting
to shield myself from the harsh truth that love
can sometimes obscure reality.

The sky's cheeks touched by a dream –  
Blushing softly and bashfully, in shades
Of pink.

As our love ascends –
You are my heavens; embraced,
Radiating in soft shades of pink.

upon the foundation of love; on the
streets of all our lives,
paved in the many ways of expression,
our love given— is the time willing to be
spent.

       love=time: which both make up life.

to echo the sound of many, the sound of i;
of all the time, all possible things, and a hope
i hope never to die,
as the past like a dearest old friend, the echo of love,
fades as quickly as it once was made.
      ...but soon shall we all meet again.

Blue as an Ocean;

                          Under a light moon
                              Black nowadays;
                               as life is so cruel

                  The moon;

So timid-
whispers secrets;
Lives with all my
dreams and wishes


                        Unfortunate for me;
                          eyes heavy of tears
                                 All I do is stare;
                          looking up, in fears


                 An Ocean lost-
                        at Sea
             In the waves of life;
                       Waits on
             The tides to subside


                              My flow goes on;
                                         stays alive.

This love is the universe reflected in your tears – universal smiles
we’d savour beneath the sheets; you offered a fragment of your
soul, while I surrendered a piece of me. Even in your absence,
you haunt me in my quiet dreams – how do I even try to sleep,
without you lying next to me?

A belief in the silent secrets carried in your breath, lying to me;
an elephant in the room; so hard to forget all the space it takes
thinking about you. My gaze is drawn to you – I am merely a
pencil sketching on your body’s canvas. Filling my mind with
oceans, drowning me in your skin- departing too quickly, I start
to feel so blue.

I loathe to confess just how deeply I worship you. Such a false
goddess; still I find myself resting down these offerings of my
heart, to lift you highly.

Treat any the same
no matter what the race.
Despite what we chase,
why can't we chase away all racism?

(Chase for a better world)

I'm just a representation of expression, feeling
so unexpressed. The presentation; outlines me
as part of the Depressed.

A manifest; label me an outcast. In a commonplace;
so void of it's heart. Commonly known as the ones
not meant to last.

But I trumpet truths; indulging in those lost souls.
To voice the voiceless, speaking of their all.

All of your worth.

Trampled down by the world's self doubt, it tells
me; 'you can't and will fail to do.'
While I'm only trying to figure a lot of things out.

Casting out two ears; to be in an empty silence,
letting this world try it's all to speak.
Being part of a world's mountainous worries,
forcing any to they peak.

My past mistakes and all missteps, are senseless in
the troubles of all the days long gone.
Even when I had all the necessary preps.

Life wasn't painted to always make a lot of sense.

But let me voice all the depressed. To those now
gone silent; without their freedom to be expressed.

We're just all the Depressed.

I'm not one at times to be easily loved, I'm also not one
you could quickly hate. I still appear afraid, even with a
brave face on. I could be romantic, but I might not have the
right words in person. I think a lot about ***, but feel comfortable
on the thoughts of still being a ****** (sometimes)

I'm not always moved by the crowd, or like to follow trends.
I'm photogenic, mixed with social anxiety amongst the unfamiliar
faces around. I barely raise my voice; sadly won't always be so manly.
I value family, though mine is so divided. Their subtle rude
humour is a form of love. I have it too, so I hope you don't mind it.

My music taste is a wide tongue of different genres.
Artic monkeys, Twenty one pilots, Frank Ocean, Kendrick Lamar,
Hippie sabotage, Bach, Earth Wind & Fire, and one or two songs
by Rihanna. I prefer to listen on my own—in the sense of bluetooth
speakers filling my anxious anxiety. At least with earphones on,         I feel free playing with full volume. And writing poems in great variety.

I'm learning to cope with long hugs, but just ease off from the
sides. It's a fight of being overly sensitive to touch; or me
liking those tingles at times. Or maybe I'm saving my sensitive
parts for a future wife. I try to swallow my pride, but it's like
a knife, cutting me from the inside. I've thought about suicide too
many times. Passions being only imaginative in my mind. A gift
with a curse behind, so unkind.

I'm unlike my father, only with his temper at better control.
They say my looks come from my mother; but my character
definitely is a mix of both.

I'm weird, humble, funny, emotional, girly (sometimes)
cautious, moody, caring, charismatic, shy, awkward, the worst
dancer (without a couple drinks in me) calm, wise, and still
finding out more about myself.

                                         Yep! That's basically me. (Messy Entirely)

You lived twice; living out a life for two,
In the spring; you sprung out your sprouting love,
But it all falls; woodlands descending echoes into madness,
For she wasn't as mad over you.

So you deferred away from despair,—
Love being an icy glass cutting your teeth,
Despondency circling round her running in your mind,
Seems no other love to compare.

Bare you a kiss; sweet as it's lamentable finale,
On top of a hill, by the bend and red eyes,
Crying as if; the ocean's waters ran away from it's place,
You said, "goodbye my sweet Sally"

Gnawing thoughts;
Biting beats on brain'
Yawning dots'
Sizing them both insane.

                 Or perhaps plain:

His head hurts'
At their single home;
She wears only long skirts.

                      Darling;

Do we surpass our shys;
Being too afraid'
To show our insides?

Shy as a tall mountain'
Hiding behind clouds:
Seems for this first,
We both have a lot to climb.

Tears of a bleeding knife; spoken promises from silent lips;
The language of one swaying a conversation- like their hips

I have been a victim of defeat, while snuffing up my tears;
Alongside the skeletons parading around in my closet
As a bone to pick with love, while picking up roses
Traveling through the thick of things as two lovers
Both stealing hearts- and being thick as thieves

As a moon spotlights over misery- wretchedness still,
Still under the sun we must celebrate in amnesia
Of what has passed- our past fades in time;
As its ticking clock of regret, is no longer mine

A breeze of promise echoes- searching for change
The very chances that elude the sage geckos
As we march towards another battle ground
I smile as a promise of fighting for better
Neither as a man who wears a frown

             I look above for hope’s song

My tongue lowers; as nothing can be expressed,
the love has not many words.

As are the prideful
remarks on breast.

I fear for the words to say, aren't perfect
in the ceremonies of love's rite,

The strength of my words only decay. A burden
of mine to lose my might.

Eyes heavy upon this love,
Preyed onto by your glorious sight. Oh how my
silent love only knows wit,

Belonging to a shy man's lips.

Sometimes I feel like a star \\
Each time I'm falling in love
Crashed out on the girls' mother earth;
Wishing them a comment as I was just
A comet, passing by in their world.

Saying bye to being another guy, in their
imperfect world— pretending to be perfect
/// Just to make their world perfect,
seeming out of this world; now I'm constantly
forced out of their space.

A claim you possess;
we’re possessions, battling for one last touch- our
love on the battlefield; the gore of it, engulfs you as
if you were drowning; sinking deeper into your
emotions. Our hearts relapsed into their silence, a
fathomless ocean- of us holding our breathes each
time we kiss.

We were so tired of loving with no results,
so much so, that the very first time we kissed
it all, it was all too much to comprehend.

Please call me back,
written message in the network's text. I don't have
enough airtime; so I'll borrow some. Knowing it's
not the best—in the fact of being underpaid.
I haven't been paid this month, so it's still a dream
of moving house. The funds are never enough,
but just tuck shop money, and a gin allowance for a
couple laughs.

But I'll call you soon.

7.50, left in my bank account. Maybe I could
pull out six to make the call. Insufficient funds to
complete this transaction, the screen read in bold.
Feeling insufficient, sufficiently to say I've worked my due.
If I had a girlfriend; which place could I take her to,
and what would we do? As I'm broke and empty on funds
and dreams in my pocket. While driving past the mansions
of my two bosses.

But I'll call you soon.

I'm running out of rhymes, without any airtime
to Google new ones on Rhymezone. So I'm just
staring at the phone, hoping you make the repeating call.
I missed it the first time you beeped me, knowing I was
feeling tearful in my room alone. I must have been so focused
on staring at the pictures on the wall, to hear your call.

But I'll call you soon.

As both of my lines have pending debts, and I'm not
keen on borrowing  money to have debts with friends.
But in the end—your fun size pride rarely cares.
Still the anxiety of not making an effort to call back,
pushes a reason to swear. To pull my hairs, struggling
on why—why I can't return your call. As if I don't care
at all.

But I do; I'm just fighting to call you soon. Unfortunately
in the end; I never had the chance to support you my
friend. I never returned that call, and it's doing in my head.

It's an unfortunate one missed call.

When the song of love plays,
I won't have it on repeat.
When love is in the air,
I'll wear a mask. Don't need to get love sick.
When love tries to brush,
I'll stand my ground, not to get swept off my feet.
When love holds a knife,
it won't steal my heart. I won't entertain a thief.
And when love goes lost,
it won't make me cry or give me grief.

But isn't that what we all say?
Till love does all of those things,
and we fall in love one day.

Yes! Love is definitely strange.

To burn...in these echoes of warmth, the
warm regards, warmest hugs and a hello
of a long seen friend. Fires burns in my chest.

Till the face glows; in the light of a friendly
smile. We'll all be the stars under the sun,
deeming light of inspiration in their lives.
The lives of those lost in the dark—guide them
with your spark.

Soon my child...you'll find that match,
fuelling the already passionate flame of love.
To rest your burning eyes of desire on loving
your spouse by fireplace of your house.

We'll be dreaming of the stars set in our names,
searing the old till ash—enkindled in this hope
you'll find. The future is bright, at the end of the
tunnel is that shinning light. You've got the will
to survive. Keep up the good fight!

Blistering scars do come with time, in the degrees
of many scolding hurts. You were created well to
take the heat.

There's a fire in us all. A fire unlike no other,
there is a fire in us all. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

The object of an eye
is dire to entrap my love towards,
An orb filled with desire, but as the life too—
of those suffering, and desiring to die. The figure
with his long dark coat, keeps the world in a right pocket.
His eyes red as the blood they curl. The sky is black wherever
he walks. His breath is heavy, and a black cloud of smoke.
One word swallows all, and as so—he destroyed the world.

The Devil, Man, or perhaps both.

Oh, how it haunts me to realize I am not the
finest swimmer –
a lovesick fool adrift in the
ocean of your
blue eyes,
Boundless and profound like
the depths of the sea
itself.

                      I am sinking beneath the waves
of your love’s
                    cerulean embrace!

Commitment and trust, a safety pin so small,
In the tapestry of bonds, they stand tall.
They shield and support, like a gentle embrace,
But one misstep, and the balance we chase.

Delicate threads woven, emotions entwined,
Unintended consequences, where hearts find,
A wounded soul, left in the aftermath,
When commitment falters, trust takes a path.

So cherish these elements, precious and rare,
Handle with care, for they're beyond compare.
For in the fabric of relationships, they reside,
A safety pin's power, when love is our guide.

Her lips were cold as a Winter’s bone, sending sharp chills down your
spine. His kiss was like a Summer, with it’s sun warming up the days.
A Spring of blossoming scented flowers, no longer shy to be openly
seen.

The butterflies in search of nectar, being the ones in her stomach. As
with the fall, they had both fallen in love during the Autumn.

He would forever be her seasoned kisser.

drinking hot coffee in summer
ice cream for the winter
hot spices on a mild tongue

cold showers in the morning
challenge to how I'm writing
drowning depth in my deep thoughts

reasons to explain the dream
opposition to say I'll never make it

it's a subtle pain,
to inspire me to push through it

A guise into your eyes, — knowing what you’re thinking,
In your silence; they must hear what your heart means;
For love at times, makes you feel so awkward,
A mirage of smiles, feeling foreign on a gritty beard.
Also love at times, feels like two kids in love,
With not much time to kid around.

While the eyes of your mirror,
Reflect just a small piece of another,
Time loves to dance around in your eyes;
As maturity starkly chases after you,
Before you place your first foot
On that familiar battleground.

It was beauty alone, putting a heart on lock
At odds; putting out all of their fires,
Still a piece of them enjoyed the spark.
And they must have worked up every thought,
Each one of them, thinking about you,
Still maybe I, enjoyed that too
— Of your presence’s work of art.

Yet,

It would remain best to appreciate you as a friend,
Then despise you later on as someone
I claimed to have once loved.

I didn’t pay heaven’s worth for one hell of a ride— for all the
Valentine cards, I’m just calling their bluff. What’s carved into
stone is too heavy to skip across the rivers of my chest; love
sinks deeper than it pretends to float. A carousel of emotions
spins; all its horses in place— some only love horsing around.
Round and round it goes; the painted smile, waiting for
the cycle to end, for the spell of tomorrow to break.

So I write letters to the future, hopes tangled in snares of my
doubts. The tongue—sharp as steel, soft as silk—knows how
to give life, and *******. We cover scars with scars, as the
extending arm, just to say we’re armed, clutching too many
guns inside our ribs. But how can blessings hold on when
your hands stay hidden, when you wear a balaclava over
your smile?

Harvest comes only from what you’ve planted—patience,
honesty, or silence. Soil on the tongue buries every word
that could have fed us.

So tell me—was heaven’s worth ever meant for one
hell of a ride?

In a garden where red flags do love to sway,  
Our pink eyes instead see beauty, but not the fray.  
Though the mix of colour are rose’s gleam,  
The thorns are hidden in a deeper scheme,  
And the sharpness can lead two hearts astray.

If I cry out to a gaze of boisterous
watchers, as every star falling out of the
sky, —I’d too, feel so out of place. I would
appear, a feast to Time, by just a second’s graze.

Truly startled at how short a life is;
even by the Greener pastures we so
meaninglessly hunt after; do know
full well, all the grass that grows so
promising; will all eventually be grazed.

And perhaps the purple envy I had
for the freedom’s worth knitted into
the sky, would all at last turn so grey,

And so, I would cry a river’s mountain,
upon knowing how much time I spent,
chasing after meaningless things in all my days.

For the cares of the world offers
only a moment’s praise,

Till I’m of course consumed, with finding
the reasoning to clarify such a craze—
I’d have no answer to my Creator’s name;
and I’d be so ashamed.

Starved breaths for time, and I’m so hungry for air
As the sky offers these familiar breathless chambers
A cool taste of a drink in the ashes of a cigarette kiss,
My throat hungers for rain, and I must swim in this-
Fathomless ocean, drawing from blood mixed as ink

The picture of words stings under my salty wounds
A few inches above the bottom of depression, I hover
Saints gather by a curve of faith, of a bend in history;

Truly it’s a mystery, to acknowledge a scent of victory
To see your purpose fully naked, of revealing a destiny
Even though, tonight I enter these years flowing past,
The land’s path we all follow; I grow hungry more so
To be fed with any more time to fully experience it all

Scornful words; as a resting tongue reliant on lies.
Bitter sweet intentions, intentive of it being intentionally
sound. I'll be loud, overly of being too proud when
humbleness isn't found.

The wise know when to hold tongue, not being boastful
of knowledge's gain. They do not entertain the rantings of
fools. Those so few—do not conform to a standard of pitiful
stance. But instead stand out, as ones of content in their
struggles. As with feet with scars, but unafraid to dance.

So trade off those scornful words, but instead let be
encouragement, lest scorn. An encouraging poem.
                    Share your encouragement in action,
                    as much as you share them in words.

Kissing lips; the best taste to have,
Next to chocolate and coffee,
Close few friends; for Saturday hangouts,
Binge watching series when I'm all alone,
Reading a good book, anxious for the next chapter,
A long awaited Friday to kick back from work,
Bonus points if we're knocking off early that day,
Instagram memes, and poetry related posts,
A few brave selfies to show off a fresh cut,
Avoiding "I like your cut g" reactions. Perfect.

The smell of brand new clothes with the tag on,
Socks and sandals in the comfort at home,
The sun coming out of a blanket of clouds. Shinning.

A good or ***** joke to have you ear from ear smiling,
Loud music in my ears with bass, and good lyrics
Picking through playlists to a sombre mood and worship,
Pretty flowers amongst the random walks to nowhere,
A brand new journal, and ballpoint pen to match,
Especially the ones with good grip, and black ink,
Holiday trips to new places, people, and food,
Afternoon naps, sleeping in days, and up late gaming,
Anime lovers sharing folders of content watched. Great.

Bible devotions leaving questions and encouragement,
Sunday meals, filling me up with good food,
Seeing cute kids; making you yearn to have your own,
Somebody complimenting or saying thank you for your effort,
And having poetry, stories, art and expression to channel every
emotion and thought out into physical. Creativity is beauty!

Twenty seven of my top reasons to appreciate being alive.

A vast cosmos swirls within my cup its hue reminiscent of
rich earth – this is how I savour the celestial dance of stars that
illuminate my dawn. The birds are chirping; their incessant
calls grating to someone still caught in the clutches of sleep,
an hour past their awakening.

I crave the warm embrace of those first sips, the aroma of
a universe enveloping my senses – those dulled nerve endings
yearning for that electric jolt to awaken my body, sounds ringing
sharp like a sudden jolt to the ear, quickly grounding me in
the present. My eyes, keen as a blade, slice through the haze of
distraction, honing in on clarity.

As I speak, relishing that fleeting moment of joy, the kettle
whistles its urgent call – a signal for the morning coffee I so
desperately seek.

Shoot a shot;-
jumping a gun, for the bullets
to be bouncing in and out of a heart.
Alas, another crime, another scar,
and another broken heart.

Instead…

Give her all of your attention
don’t mask over intentions,
Quickly solve all tensions-
love her as an instrument; a song of love,
And be her instrument of protection-
her caring, compassionate, and loving weapon.

As I steal a glimpse of the clock's dance,
A yearning swells within, a fleeting chance.
Moments slip through my grasp, like sand they flow,
Tick-tock, they whisper, time won't slow.

The hands move ceaselessly, a gentle plea,
To remind me that time won't wait for me.
No pause, no respite, it marches on,
Ignoring my plea for serenity's song.

My daddy warned me; not to stay up late,
But how could I not cry, when the world looks
So much better inside of that screen?

My daddy never told me why, because we
were too busy crying.

My daddy warned me; not to give up on my faith,
But how could I not decide, to let go of faith,
When we’ve all lost our ways?

My daddy couldn’t hold his own,
With all the weight of the entire world.

All these tears, have run dry,
And I’m just bleeding out of my eye,
And it’s so hard to cry, knowing your soul has died.
All these tears, have already died.
Already died, already died, already died,
I don’t feel alive.

My daddy warned me, not to be so lazy,
But how could I not sigh, at any movement,
Feeling like we’re all about to die?

My daddy worked himself to the bone,
All with nothing of his own.

My daddy warned me, not to give up on dreams,
But how could I not tell him, we’re all feeling scared;
With so much pressure placed on our heads?

My daddy didn’t face all of his fears,
We're both running off scared.

But my daddy told me to, look up to the sky,
Even when I want to cry, with tears gone dry,
Someone is by my side, as Heaven also cries.

All these tears, are filled with life.
Filled with life, filled with life, filled with life,
And I’m still alive.

As for Youthful romance
It's just like foolish Affairs –
Impulsive decisions, Fleeting emotions.

And if foolish Affairs of Youth serve
A purpose; it Serves as a simple Message:

All young Love, is DUMB love;
Until you Eventually find the ONE.