There are four of us.
We may fight but that is okay.
Together, forever, we stand tall,
We are not small.  
Nothing can break our bond.

There are four of us.
We may fight but that is okay.
Together, forever, we stand tall,
We are not small.
Please life, just stay this way.

There are four of us.
We may fight but that is okay.
Together, forever, we stand tall,
Or so we thought.
Soon we will grow apart.

There are four of us.
We may fight but that is okay.
It's our only way to show we care.
Evil is here.
Will we ever be free?

There are four of us.
Life is nothing but despair.
Never together, forever, now.
What can I do?
Must keep his eyes on me.

Only one was spared.
Could we ask for more than that?
Together, forever, we stand tall,
We are not small.
Our bond was never gone.

I handed you my soul
My heart and sanity
My dreams and demons
The scar runs so deep
The slightest scratch brings
Blood to the surface
The blood runs from the veins
To the ground
My footsteps imprinted in the blood
As I try to move away
I wake thinking it’s just a bad dream
But my vivid memory of the pain
The lies
Brings me face to face with reality
I did a dangerous thing
I let you see my vulnerability
And you devoured me
In just seconds you broke me down
The blood stain hard to wash away
You watched me lose sense
Lose control Lose my mind
All in the fantasy of your life
It was never going to end with
Love
It could only end the way it was in
Lies and pain
The blood stain hard to wash away

It hurts me to see you
Falling.
You've wandered
I see how it cuts at you
But really, you're stronger than this.
I love you, you know...
But sometimes I just want to pick you up and shake you.
"Wake up!"
You're better than this
Smarter than this
Stronger than this
But if I'm bold...
Could it be damaging?

“Start a new chapter”

What a cliché talk of trash,
Sick of the story,
Sick of the characters
Sick to death of the bromidic lifestyle
Of our “protagonist”,
Who’s more of a *******.

No ambition, no talent, no heart,
No anything really,
Blind shots in the dark.

“I’ll stick to it” He says
“Everyday!” He declares
But everyday becomes every week
And every week becomes every month
And every month becomes-not every year,
But whenever-he-feels-he’s-capable,
Able to apply words into a fable
Of tongue tangling and mind rotting slur.

He’ll be going out today,
Wasting money on fatty foods and
Carbonated poison he doesn't need.
And in an almost pitiful attempt
To feel better about what he failed
He’ll say “I’ll try tonight” in a whisper.

Does he write tonight? Does he ****.

I tell you, you gloomy ones,
that life is beautiful.
Life is beautiful
in all its depths of
suffering and misery and pain
in all its depths of
striving and joy and pleasure.

I tell you, you nihilists,
one draws breath only once,
passes into and fades out of life only once.
Yet you are to tell us it is worthless,
this gift given to us all by chance?

I tell you, you Christians,
and all your compatriots
who hate the flesh and the earth,
who promise more life through
sons of virgins and husbands of children,
that nothing awaits after death.

"Memento mori!”  
Why must you always
chime this in our ears?
Why must you fill
men with such anxious fears?
Many a man rules his life to this,
dreads and gasps and despairs to this,
prays that he may never come to this,
but you delude him on,
promising life after life.

I tell you, that
when we die, we cease ourselves to be.
Our senses stop their feeling,
our hearts stop their beating,
our brains stop their thinking,
and without those functions,
there ends a man.

So there are no souls
to greet gods in heavens,
nor any demons
to meet in hells,
only the ground we stand on,
and the caskets underneath.

Is this frightening?
Maddening, to think we must one day
cease to be and become nothing?
But death is not nothing;
Death is only a new dance of atoms.

When one thing tumbles,
it returns to the earth,
through one step or another,
to waltz and dissemble and collide
to make new things and again asunder.
With death, one only  
plays one's part
on the grand stage of things.

Do not be afraid then,
of death;
do not let it frighten you,
that you will be
pointless, forgotten, or condemned.
Do not let it terrify you
into leaving your life unlived.

And so I tell you,
you gloomy ones,
you Christians, you nihilists, you sufferers,
remember that you must live.
Embrace life,
this shortness of time,
love every moment of your being,
in all its depths of
suffering and misery and pain,
in all its depths of
striving and joy and pleasure.

It's being told to go to bed at three in the morning.
It's a stained mug of coffee,
refilled again as you wonder,
"When did I last eat?"
and then carried into your room,
sat next to a bag of chips and a used-up pen.
It's walking into school the week before and slipping into a haze of equations and dates.
It's a binder full of papers that you swear you just cleaned out,
notes on topics you've forgotten,
memos from the principal about events long gone
which you read because they're a distraction.
It's sprinting home because a second spent away from your books is a second wasted.
It's finally getting home and crying out,
"Who gives a ****!"
as you stare at an equation
for the flight path of a spherical chicken,
for the synthesis of some chemical from some other chemicals.
It's missed club meetings and missed socialization.
It's misery in it's purest form.
It *****.

Where is my silence?
I cannot find it
Where is my innocence?
Never to return
Where is my comfort?
It seems eternally amiss
But I have nothing to complain about.