To live and not to breathe, is to die in tragedy.

Is the same as to love and not feel.
Without love, whilst being in love, to die alone.
Without hope, without a smile on your lips.

Without the one person that you have loved your entire life since the day you met them.

To die in tragedy,
Is to die without wiping her tears away with your thumb as you cheer her up after she's had a bad day.
Is to never put that one strand of hair behind her ear and smile into her beautiful eyes.
Is to die without telling her that you love her everyday.

Is to die without the chance to make her happy

I play guitar,
I play punk rock, and pop punk.

Sometimes people cause arguments with me. I fight back.

This time someone was insulting my little sister, trying it on my sister. I found him holding her in the back alley. I took my guitar and blam.
No more guitar,

It's four am. I'm passed out in an alley somewhere, covered in blood, is it mine?
I dip a finger in and test.
Yes it's mine. Some of it is anyway.

I feel around and find that there's a stab wound in my side.

Blood slowly oozing from the puncture,
I'm lucky it didn't hit an artery.
I look around.

There's the little **** who hit my sister! Who tried to... Tried to... He isn't moving! ****! There's more blood on him!

I lurch forward towards him, he's dead.
Throat slit by the guitar strings.
I move around.

The neck of the guitar is still embedded in my side. Stemming the flow of blood.
I stand I look for my little sister,


I don't see her! Where is she!?

I start running, everything goes red.
I round a corner. There's my sister.

She's fine.... She's fine... Thank God

In the running the guitar neck fell from my side,
Blood pours from the wound. There's an ambulance.

"I love you sister, don't you ever let them hurt you"

I write this thinking about the girl I love, stood out in the pouring rain.

A tear rolls down my cheek as I type away on my phone.
This pathetic fallacy makes me smile,
for the dreadful irony

I sit in my perfect elysium,
A beautiful world, full of happy faces.

I dream of my perfect life here in paradise,
I look around at the happy faces,
Of people drinking tea and children laughing.

I look around and see them in this life of pandemonium.
I see the red puddles on the floor, the uneaten food, the scavenging vultures and the families.

And I smile,
At least they're happy. At least they are with their families.

With their slashed open faces to create leering twisted smirks of the living undead. With piles of rotten corpses and tortured survivors.

With the cries and cruel laughter of the children of my underworld.
Standing with shadows and blunt blades,
Awaiting the chance to shed blood.

It looks like they fell down the wrong rabbit hole.

One does wonder how they are still falling,
Visiting the beautiful Alice, with her chest ripped apart and flesh hanging from her wounds.

But then again,

Wonderland has never been so pretty has it my dear Alice

The Internet is broken and corrupted,
the battle ground of the corrupt soldiers who lay down their lives behind a screen, too afraid to step forward and make a change.

You have a voice.
That is all you need now to be different,
but to make a difference,
you have to use your voice.
For good, for what you believe,
you have to use your voice to its advantage,
take the virtual battle into the real world.

But why doesn't this happen?
I'll tell you why.

Media censorship,
Media propaganda,
Media control

The media have caused fear and anxiety of stepping up and shouting out.
By forcing images and thoughts onto people,

A subliminal mind ****,

You don't have to be visible,
Or even have your name known to make a difference,
It's not confidence that will help, rather it is anger at the oppression.

Anger at the media.
Break out.
Fight for your beliefs,
And never surrender to the propaganda.

Voices. They. Don't. Stop. Ever.

They make me wanna scream and shout.

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT IT!

They're still there. Taunting. Poking. Ripping me apart.

They'll regret it. The new me is here. And they will have to ...

SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!

It's not working, they're still here.
Still dragging at me. All I need is a flash.
A moment.

SNAP.

They wanted me. They got me. They realise now.

The voices aren't there anymore. They ran away... they lost.

Hear that? No?

THEN SHUT UP!