It is there,
Under the splendid sun unweathered,
The moon lights Kindle and rekindle,
Under the stars stuck in repentance,
Unlike their perpetuality,
It is there,
The urge to redraw myself,
Into the reflection of others perfection,
To be spun in accordance to what lies,
behind those shallow eyes,
My complexity beyond compare,
Not sincere,
Am I the art or the painter?
Because I destroy myself so beautifully,
A symphony sung and unsung all at once,
Broken cords that heal themselves whole.

It is a contagious ill,that has saddened my will,
A rash that I timidly approach,
And times when this world is saddened,
It's an itch that thrives,
It's has lead me to question,
Should I not stand where others thrive?,
I simmer beyond sense,
Boil in hopes of repentance,
To be one with myself yet again,
Inevitably I scratch the reap to keep me sane,
All around me is a baffling aide,
To pursue a realisation that this world has left my side,
It's creater alone I cannot keep,
For my heart is sealed with heap,
Of a wound that sources blood,
And dear to me is the way it floods,
Now grey is this heart,
It answers with a lie,
It has sensed it's contagious ill,
So it doesn't learn it's way to others life.

It's distain apart from vain,
To spill and for it to not soak,
Drowned have I my words,
In a well to no revoke,
No one to cry for the eyes that face reluctance to tear,
Aloof,
The burden of my existence I bear.

“But I was so much skinnier back then,
And I looked so much better”
I hear myself say.
But I was drinking three meal replacement shakes a day
And passing out after running 3k.

I couldn't rhyme this feeling of despair,
It's a tarnish like none other,
a convulsion of my nature,
Unconsciously I contrived,
This feeling of despair,
To be so very near,
I looked for god under its shadows,
I jabbed and stabbed,
How could a god so near,
Have me famished for his love and fear,
Alas I found,
Man is meat and despair is hound,
Cunning days leave me counting,
Passing hours fueled with longing,
Sonorous shill of my heart I deplete,
For under all this abhor,
I have found peace in release,
Release of despair that I protect like the spoils of war with in myself.

White, black, green, and red,
Waving a flag.
Let the world know
There is a right to be alive—
The people of Palestine have,
In their own olive land.