I write for no noble cause,
I spill all I never was,
Selfishly I prey on hate,
And engulf it without debate,
My heart beats and death it cheats,
Oblivious to my minds defeat.

I have yet to feel warm in this stagnant cold water,

I have yet to become my father's loving daughter.

Under gods name I am saved,
Under gods name I am betrayed,
There is no humanity.

You're the sun I miss every night

The path unfollowed follows my mind,
The path unfollowed mocks me blind,
And entrenches deeply in my wound,
Now in the path of the wild I must swoon,
To reclaim my sight.

The sky,
a gazer,
And oft a weeper for the lands man,

The land is calling for me absurdly,
To be loved and exploited no more,
I must drench in this blood spilled earth,
Encharging me to reclaim it as my purpose,
The sky,a gazer,
And oft a weeper for the lands man,
The world has never felt so woven,
And melancholy slipped itself back in this sinners hand,
Alas,
My world has never felt so scattered ,
I felt so shallow and all felt so bland,
Though in these marshes I find,
An escape for a life time,
The path unfollowed follows my mind,
The path unfollowed mocks me blind,
And entrenches deeply in my wound,
Now in the path of the wild I must swoon,
To reclaim my sight,
To dream of nature is to dream of youth,
Although the flowers and their wilting ways have me doubt my days,
She is held so high,
And her wilting has me escape a sigh,
She awaits as if betrayed,
From the remedy that the nature has made.

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,

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.

Every day I die a certain way,
My sky is isn't infinite needless to say,
But under a sky you live,
That's not abandoned and astray,
The stars are for you to perceive,
In the horror of night skies darkness,
In darkness I grieve,
My God is different,
Mine is indifferent,
Not a friend nor a foe.

Like the rose pricked from it's own thorns,
I have lead the rein to my destruction,
I cohabitate with loss,
That stems from my very own blood,
Thus my blood is a curse,
It heals,
And when I cut it,
is pours,
It lets me live and drown while ashore,
I am drowned in my blood
Yet my thirst isn't quenched

God himself is his best creation,
A delusion so sublime,
It's comfort in pain,
Deemed as a symphony of insane.

I'll pour my bitterness in a presentable glass
To drink it again
Adjourned of hope fullness
As to saviour the taste of my destruction without impurity

She harpens the mute,
Which makes them sing their soul,
For within her poetry they find,
Their relentless souls,
Their relentless sorrows,
A whim of time induced fate,
To betray her,
For her to sow to no reap,
Within her bounteous heart such injustice couldn't seep,
So now she spills the nectar of her being,
She spill words of poetry,
She spill tears.

In my shackles I run free,
Miles and miles on the path of divinity.

In ill wit I find this life unfit,
Bequest of melancholy I admire,
For all left of us is dire,
A folks tale we learn to admire,
Akin to the play that plays in my mind,
Even with me as my possession,With my soul I hold no rhyme
Thus,
as realities prisoner I do not wish to retire,
The earth retraces it's history in satire,
Gods creativity I admire,
But confined to this rugged terrain I contrive,
An illness has warmed me and now in its grasp I lie,
An illness to betray that of which I find noble,
So now I grieve a lesson I don't want to learn.

Sow and sow to what reap?
The bounteousness of this world I can't keep,
The sky, the sun a fading promise,
Should I destroy myself or chant gods name?
But who will carry me out when I go insane,
For god shall disappear amidst my bane,
Who's rein will keep me sane?,
I can't devote myself to anything,
I can't be worshiped nor can worship,
Shall I let the famished night slip away my soul,
Must i dive that deeply in my own betrayal,
To have my reflection claim me blind,
Why must I dwell in this world claim it as my residence?,
For I wish so sublimely,
To not have a say,
To not be perceived nor noticed,
To be a satire way.

Is it a devotion to love?,
Is it the stuttering way of the tides?,
Is it that resonance of the weeping Sky?,
Or the strings of yearning plundered by lust?,
That oft fret us of a perpetual brooding call of death,
One that is as much of a mystery as it is known,
The trees left to stand tall for man,
who shall have his back fail him over eternity,
The sand who's grains shall never be acknowledged by man or god,
Yet they stay,
Yet it blooms,
Is life a reward or a test?,
Is it the result of former ill crimes at best,
For our nature thrives in inequality, injustice,
Like a sinner,
Like a criminal,
We comply to our nature Our nature to love has proved futile.
Although it has kept us sane.

Unsettling silence protrudes me whole,
Silence with god,
Silence within my soul,
Silence of remarkable control,
Silence bound to eat me whole,
Skillful silence has me sinful,
Plundering what in me was willful,
What to make of who I am?,
What to make of my greed?,
To have god's heed.

A decor of stars I wished to be,
Tranquility in me I wished to see,
I prayed to him,
To slay the moon ,
For me to be the vessel for it's light to swoon.

I am what I chose to be,
A calamity I rose to be,
Ascension of it all was a prayer,
To be no hearts souvenir,
To dispell,be forgotten and veiled,
Now,
Within claws of solitude have I been enslaved,
I begged for his pity,
Now I am scarred,
A misfortunate heart,
Who can't decipher right or wrong,
Who is woven in a sorrowful song,
A decor of stars I wished to be,
Tranquility in me I wished to see,
I prayed to him,
To slay the moon ,
For me to be the vessel for it's light to swoon.

Should you pardon my mistake if I were to comply,
On monstrosities that solemnly lie
In my soul,
In my shattered soul,

I am sad and unpardoned,
Of the burden that I choose to carry.

Is it a mistake or the limit to his perfection,
Creating me,a shallow imperfection

A perpetually illuminant why,
Has adorned me to believe,
My passion is to cry,
My passion is to grieve,
Patronised to my beings extent,
Is a limerence to being content,

Admonished to partake,
This world I forsake,
And chirp over their cries,
For it's befit to realise,
Everything is bound to cease,
For none is there a release,
Dogma prevails over a soil to which tomorrow has no avail,
magnanimity subdued,
For our ******* ways has us all induced,
The way of life we have confused,
Authority is misused,
Enchant Misdemeanor craze,
Endeavour to earn,
Alas,
A salvation remains unlearnt,
Sea of hypocrisy and blood left awake,
A whim has lead me askew,
To simmer no hope,
To wilt In no lies,
To not be loved to conjure in a hearty demise,
"The earth is a blemished mess",
The sun sings to the skies,
Stuck in repentance the stars nod,
Bitterness espouses,
As i unearth in my creed,
A fabulous truth,
To which man pays no heed.

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.

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.

Is your find an ill mans job?
A free man's job?
A loathed mans job?
A sane man can never find you
A sane man can never love you

Beads that solemn glow,
Perk up my eyes with tragedies and flow,
Ensnaring my whim to wipe it away,
The tears that descend,
My body drowned in marks of spear,
In my hands I kindle a flame,
Tear to my flesh its pain so sour,
A hearty jubilance collapses in dismay,
My thoughts forfeit a mere clump of hay,
There is no afterlife to who doesn't believe,
Apart from this life there is more to grieve,
Am I a timeless portrait hoping to decay?,
Am I the assumed thrill of tomorrow and the obfuscation of today?,
My thoughts thinned to a buzzing sound,
Threads that break over a shallow woe,
A soul that bleeds,
The  swine it beholds,
I need a quilt,
For in this world I have gone cold.

The god who I hold so dear,
Wishes to have me nowhere near,
He partakes me within his closure,
Yet veils me of his signs,
Alas,
Distain espouses within,
Where does he want me gone?,
When it's his earth I lay upon,
May I inquire of my cause?
May I know what I was?
For I do not find me befit,
The sea left to lie,
to dry,
A devil with no temptations,
Nor the urge to pry,
Like a fatigue who's tiredness is due,
I am content with loitering,
The only source of hope that I cradle like a mother,
Is the possibility of you,
But there is no love,
Only hope,
Oh how I long for freedom,
Like the bird that never meets the sky,
I have espoused within what is expected,
So now I am breaking because I was never in my hands,
And I learnt that the hand of god/People isn't very gentle.

Why do I have to earn the salvation I seek?
To be so intervened in discomfort so deeply,
I sculpture a home in it,
I bestride me in delusion,
My inconsistence towards my self,
Ignites a flame in which I burn alive,
Thus
My memories are mere ashes
And I no longer remember your name nor mine,
My inconsistency of will,
Of mind and thoughts,
Of love,
Of meaning,
It invokes of my burdens and failure,
Bewitched to inconspicuousness,
Nothing descends upon me,
But mountain of realization,
That transgresses on all my hopes,
I am hopeless,
A fool,
A puppet of the greatest puppeteer,
An unvalued one,
My theory is based off nothing,
Thus,
I am too a void,
Driven to soak up everyone's essence,
Desperate as a sponge.

I reside in shallow desires,
That have burned to ashes,
A mere swine swindler and a mime,
Are my traits to define,
Exhibiting aimlessness,
I watch the stars align,
And for God to show me a sign,

Like a River sullen in misery,
Knowing it will have to fit In a pond,
I besiege my reach,
And so I preach,
My heart to not have it's way,
Now as a pond,
I reside without a say.

My eyes are like my fathers,
So is my heart,
No matter how much I try to undo myself,
or pick me apart,
He is a piece of me,
My bitter half.

I befall in deception yet again,
As you drank my blood in a wine glass,
Your mere presence leaves me crippled of senses other than my sight,
My heart beat induces every other sense numb,
It beats louder and louder,
Ensuing on me a maddening repercussion,
spirals of emotions swarm,
While my flesh rots,
As I have loved you with every vessel and there is none of me left,
Nothing more than a shadow,
That worships your presence,
And devours it's self in your absence,
My selfishness fails to Reason Infront of your heartless arrogance,
Indeed,
You have fueled a bizarre touch to my nature,
Yet,
my heart hums a tune in envy wishing for you to satiate me with your presence,
And engage with my hearts hollowness by being a permanent dweller,
So I can thrive in oblivion of my own tangible  hollowness,
I am deceased until you pour within me life,
Drop by drop,
But then you flicker a fire to watch me burn,
Your mistaken to think I have not  burned to ashes,
For I  am a moth for your flame,

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?"

Devoted to a vexing repercussion,
Tangible emptiness espoused to my memories,
"Where do I keep you?" I wonder,
Symbolically,my heart is a coal,
You will grow weary of it's coldness,
Symbolically,a soul I am not comprised off
However shall you feel my warmth?
Symbolically I am a blank canvas stained with red
Shall you saviour the scars that bleed?
Symbolically, attuned to madness I have become
Shall you join me in its depths?
As I am it's vessel like no other.

Intelligible am I of a truth that haunts me,
And seeps within every single one of my vessel,
Even my nightmare dreads my reality,
And burdens me with it's withdrawal,
So in a domain of endless sleep I sway,
Hoping for it to take my breath away,
Alas,
Conspicuous reality will vehemently say,
Wake up and slave your day away,
Hitherto,
A person like me could only be promised death and nothing more,

A breath or two maybe,

But Not the gleaming light birthed by the sun,
Only the shadows of past that eat me numb,
The tangible abhor has claimed my sight,
And I am blinded by the tragedy of what will be or what might,
I wish for life to tempt me with a fraud.
So I never look back and live My way,

I hide myself away so beautifully,
So I am perceived as an art form and nothing else,
Mimicking a mannequin,
An undeniably inhuman Facade upholds me,
A mere antique is all I can claim to be,
Inhabited in which is a crack,
That i pledges to veil,
Until,
Draps are drawn,
And amused audience embrace their ways to home,

We grace the sky by keeping sane and alive,
So it's not protecting a barren land,
And retains it's purpose,
Although my lifelessness would encourage,
A deserted deceased body,
Over a lifeless one,
Do I have the right to despise the tarnish in the monsoon sky?
The flowers and rain,
The ceaseless beauty of this land makes me sick,
Neither am I right full to chase it nor have it,
I have been bleeding while only noticing the beauty of my blood,
With its throbbing pain going unnoticed,
Because it's all I have been allowed to see,
My nature propells me to admire what I see,
My feeble cry of destain,
Abolished by the thundering sound of the rain,
I have successfully pursued your hate,
Yet,
I am not satisfied.

Can we be more than just a  produce for this world?
Conjoined to the core so I can claim you mine,
So I can feel more than your flesh and blood,
So I can feel your soul and it's innocence,
With a quill I shall write our sorrows together,
Yet describing the depth of your eyes is all my quill is bound to do,
You colonized my heart with one embrace,
Claiming everything yours,
It was already yours,
But I would rather write than say,
It's all a shattered spectacle can do,
The hum of your heart is rather enticing,
Its coarse yet delicate how surprising,
"You are a whim of my heart" is all I can say
A whim that shall never perish and ruin me away

What aghast consumes us to not share a lil of what we have,
Is it being bereft of our nature?
Our astounding nature to love,
Why have we locked it deep within hatred,
So one must suffer,
To have what we were made to already give,
What inspires you to hate?
It is for a fact a misleading virtue,
It doesn't strengthen the roots of ones power,
It robs and dwindles a lil of his nature as a man,
And makes him unrecognisable,
a stranger to those familiar,
So tell me dear father,
Why do you hate?
What is the cause of your perpetual anguish?

Until my voice shrivels up,
Until what breaks me is induced to make me,
Until I find gratitude in discomfort,
Until there is a cease to this fuel
cursed to burn forever,
In envy and greed,
Until a salivation is unearthed,
Until the trees dance and harmonize to my broken tune,
Until hope is found,
Until I am not a mere whisper that dies on the tongue,
Until in all hope lost a purpose is found ,
Until I no longer wish to die in solitude,
Until I question the reason to sing this medieval tale,
Until I halt and shatter and melt away,
I must sing this ancient song.

I want to love,
So I can prove that
I am not completely lost,
In the hurdles of time,
And that there is a heart,
If not for me,
I wish for it to beat for the existence of another,
So my being can find a purpose,
I am in a a state of constant desperation,
To learn and to be learnt,
By heart,
So that I am never forgotten,
So that I may linger without consequences.

How good and awarding is the destructive truth that runs through my very flesh?
Is it any better than my sins?
Both an abyss of disturbance,
For neither can be perceived as a saint,
Nor a Satanist,
Obfuscated I turn to skies,
For my heart is breaking because it relies on the futility of my nature
But i can't find the answer