Shall I spill words?
Shall I spill tears?
Or Shall I spill blood?
Indegenious to my nature is the fact,
That it can't stay,
It needs to flow,
It needs to be felt and heard by another existence,
A much kinder and understanding one
Hitherto,
the sacrifice to spill has left a dauntingly adverse repression,
Nothing has sustained,
all has been robbed,
"Shall I spill away all that has been left of me?"she wonders

Do not ask me who I am
Ask me why I am
For that will give me peace
An affirmation of my existence
Amongst the many others God created
A lamb to the slaughter?
who understands the sacrifice she is going to be  put up for and makes peace with it
A clown in a Circus?
One who's duality knows no bounds
A looming shadow?
One with a beating heart
A crow amongst the doves?
Shrewd and menacing
A grasshopper in an ants colony?
Who understands life best in the depth of it's ruins

To debark the root of evi,
l was lead to myself,
Was in ecstacy at that time so it was hard to tell,
I had fallen below that of an ****,
My loyalties had changed and so had my heart
No matter how much I weave it again
This spiders web Is in distain
Turned an tossed, left to rot
My selfish desires invoke no guilt
Now that I can not flee from the web that I have built

When I am so very easily moulded,
You use me,
And I am content when used,
That's the mystery of my nature,
I have a burning urge to be acknowledged,
You hear me my Lord,
And like the people,
you do not wish to listen,
You do not wish to acknowledge a fault in your making,
I am the fault in your making.
Broken and perturbed.

I am like darkness seeing the sun shine,
Eluding jealousy a tale so refined,
They have worshiped the sun the stars,
Alas,I am like the moon the reason of whose praise is yet to define,
Forged with sorrows I steal the light,
Always wishing of the sun to set so I can have my rise,
Am I just am alternative I ask getting a sigh in response,
Maybe you will know your worth one day till then be warned not to go astray,
The intangible replies on whose hands the whole world lies.

What kind of life does he life if not astray?
Drinking his vows away,
He has mastered a simple lie,
He says he doesn't pry,
Yet he looks around in hope,
In pursuit of his answer to why,
Why is it that he madly deluded himself?
Why is it that he doesn't find himself well?
Why does he borrow,when his nature is to give?
Why has he swallowed his own guilt?
A  plaintiff of his own crimes,
A hypocrite and an insect,
Shriveled up in the hopes of summer,
Only to find himself trampled and deserted,
Suffocated under the knowledge of his distasteful being,
He finds himself aligned to a menacing repercussion,
The cause of it all he has yet to attain,
He inquiries ,"Why do you wish for me to live when I find it all in vain?".

A juggler who juggles no *****,
A defeated entity of time,
A humorous attempt of nature to give,
As it was desperate to not  have it's summer hue stolen,
A child of autumn, perceived as the colour brown,
A deserted colour,yet profound,
He swings obsessively,
Deluded in a harsh desire to love,
He imitates the spring,
But his flowers wilt without a cause,
Compelled by a maddening desir,
He corrupts the produce of summer,
He feels avenged,
He was a lost cause.