Grant me freedom
over wisdom
it's that which
knows no age-term

This turning year  
a child of war so newly born,
could we give it a day
to dream its infant dreams,
the simple gift of a little peace
apparently not, or so it seems

I beg and churn and oft dream,
I crave and long from all in my being,
All that is scattered all that is seen,
All that is bound to decay,
All to stumble back in your way,
Frivolous being am I to sight,
Everything I am doesn't fit right,
18 years to build this mould,
That replicates what is foretold,
A venture in this soul,
Had me realise it is dead,has no goal,

Tears
Headaches
Homework for hours
Trying so hard
Just to be heard

Trying to make friends
Trying to be social
So difficult when your not normal
The things you have to tell yourself
To keep yourself together
"It's okay
Your okay
Everything's okay"
All lies

Concerned looks from your mother
As you say that yes, today was the same
You can tell she's trying not to cry
Guilty

Procrastination
Lack of motivation
Working so hard for this presentation
And for everything else
Even when it all gets deleted in my head immediately after

The crowded hallways
You can barely squeeze your way through
They're so loud
And full of people
Most yelling
Some banging on lockers
Jammed
Like my head

Painted spirals on the wall
Not as real as mine

From all these years questioning why I am alone?  Now I can simply answer, it was a choice I made that never made sense since until I see I was behind all closed doors.

Is the anguish in our heart burned along our body in hell
Do we hate god no more?
Is heaven a immoral ecstacy?
How could the sinless crave something so evil ?
As evil as the idea of heaven
Where we are to feast and the cries of those on hell reach our hearts no more,
Is heaven inhuman?
What of a sinner who sined against himself,
Will he be forgiven of the,
Sin of harm,
Sin of neglect,
Sin of distrust,
Sin of silence among the weeping in the crowd where he is found dead by his very own hands.