I cut off my ears
at a beautiful note

And fall in love when
it's a screeching sound

I gauge my eyes out
with the violin's bow

The audience claps
so I take a bow

Lately, I have been détaché-d
Colorful melody, no strings attached

Take the strings of the violin
Tie them around my neck

I grab the neck
of the violin, choke myself
and say

Violence is yet
another instrument
I can't play.

It's not you,
It's magic.
It's not me,
It's your face.
Break up,
then break down.
Stab yourself ,
And then frown.

I pace back and forth
I beg to get support
I'm screaming, watery eyes.
They assure, "It's alright, child. Smile."

I climb the Mount Everest
Apathy is all there ever is.
I shout "We're running out of time!"
They sing, "Don't worry, child. Smile!"

Policies have wreaked havoc
But 'I don't know what I'm talking about.'
People getting killed in front of my eyes.
But okay yes I'm a child I should smile.

From your smiles what did you gain?
That from justice I have to abstain?
You place your hand on my shoulder.
STOP. I don't want to hear those words again.

The world is on fire behind me now.
But never mind, look at me now.
They are crying, they are dying.
But never mind, I'm smiling.

Nothing I have to be proud,
Sixteen candles, and one falls down
Sixteen dresses in that closet
I'm turning into one now.
Worn out,
Because I grew out,
I WILL shout
till I'm thrown
out.

It is dark and it's raining.
Your beings are enchained but
The Book, The Book,
Your Book is not explaining.

Rain: Is it You crying
from the sky and
smiling and sympathizing
with me?

Or is it You humming
to Taylor Swift and
doing laundry, not hearing
my screams?

Your Book, Your Book
It is misunderstood
God, Your beings are being
oppressed for just being.

It wasn't Your intention then
But now, don't You see?
The powerful use the Book
To have power over the weak!

The Book, The Book
Says your Golden Gates
are closed for me.
For just showing sympathy?

When did it become
a choice between,
The Book, The Book
and humanity?

The Book, The Book
Says You care a lot
And then it says
you don't care at all.

Which creature to love
and which to not.
To help you decide,
Is there a Lucky Draw?

Why will you let,
those who repeat
"The Book, The Book",
easily off the hook?

But those who dare to think,
judge between bad and good
are the ones who get
The Look, The Look?

And if behind those Golden Gates
Are bad people chanting
"The Book, The Book"
I'm not sure I want to enter.

Pale faces and red eyes
approach making no sound
Pale faces and red eyes
emerge from diamond studded cars
Ask the sun why it dares to shine
For her rebelliousness, is it a salute?

My subconscious mind
looks for a yellow bus around
In front of the class, summarize
who you are in words, just few
Ask the sky why it looks so blue
For it feels like the first day of school

Her casket holds the night skies
Frozen flames struggle to dance
to the tunes seen by her eyes
The lilies may wilt if given a chance
It's a Visitation, you're supposed to cry
But frankly, your eulogy is full of lies

You wear grief just like school uniforms;
For a few hours and out of formality
Funeral director, the head of the school
Making money out of a dying galaxy
Her thoughts shall live as immortals
There's more to bury than just the body

A masked old man makes me realize
He bleeds black tears from his eyes
He tells me they performed an autopsy
Out bled nothing but art and poetry
Lo and behold! Another galaxy has died
In whose heart now, will my soul reside?

What has this world done to you?
O wanderer, O rolling stone,
With the solitary of an oyster,
With the heart of gold.
With the gleam of a shining star,
With the sagacity of old.

You could dance with the mermaids of the Bristol Cove and dine with the Lions of Tanzania.
You could make the brooding bears laugh and the queenly quokka cry.
You could make the stars shine brighter and the harmonies of the hills louder.

It was indubitable that your charm would, spread in this chasm of insanity and monstrosity.
You let go of your harmonies and your songs.
You soaked up the evil as a sponge would,
faded away like some fabled city of mythology.
Tell me, rolling stone, where did we go wrong?

Where did all of that charm go?
All I know is I miss you so.