The cold seeps everywhere,
through my fingers, onto my arms,
and directly to my heart.
The fire heats everywhere,
through my fingers, onto my arms,
and directly into my heart.

Will you light the fire,
to combat this cold winter I've dealt with,
and bring warmth to my heart,
and thaw it to let it feel again?

So, I sing the song,
The jubilant song,
The one I sang with you by my side
So long ago.

I lay in the place,
behind the warm oak trees,
The place I lay when you were by my side
So long ago.

I listen to nature,
the calm, surreal nature,
The nature that existed when you were by my side
So long ago.

Life has moved on from us,
You have moved on from me,

Have I moved on?

Do you hear it?
It's the smell of colors,
The sight of sound,
The taste of light,
The warmth of the voices.

I follow them
They take me to my future
and make me forget my past.
They
Make
Me
Forget
My
Past.

Some might call me insane,
For following my heart,
But I swear that I hear them,
(Especially when I'm alone).

One day I listened,
and followed my soul.
What would it let me do tonight?
What does the future hold for me?
Where will I be when the skies are bright?
What mental state counts as "alright"?

The smell of colors,
The sight of sound,
The taste of light,
The warmth of voices.
Don't tell me your deaf and blind,
to what's obviously there,
maybe you too can adhere to these,
if you might dare to care.

Fear.
We all feel it, but we all don't want to.

Do you think Satan has fears?
Does God?
What is there that can scare God?
And if there proves to be something that fears God,
what's the chance that I too don't fear it?

Some say they don't have any fears,
that any sense of terror doesn't harm them.
I laugh at these people.
The only time they can't feel fear is that one time,
that one special time,
they're laying,
cold,
dead,
alone,
six feet in the ground.
A simple figment of history.
Their lack of worries won't matter.
It won't.
It doesn't even matter now.

We all fear death;
Some more than others.

The pain.
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
I've tried every drug,
but the pain doesn't dissipate.

It's been so long
since my mind has been sound.
Since my body had been free;
Free from this defeating pain,
Free from the issues of life,
Free.

It's a bird,
knocking on my window.
Every. Day.
It never goes away,
It'll surely knock tomorrow also.
I need it gone.

There are manacles;
Shackles on my soul.
I would do anything to find the key
and set myself free.
They might never go away;
The chains will constrain me tomorrow.
I need them gone.

The pain.
It hurts.
Like a bird pecking constantly,
Like restraints tying me down,
I've tried it all,
but the pain doesn't dissipate.

Where do you see the moonlight in the darkest of days and the worst of nights?
Where do you see the warm sun-rays among the storms and the terrible weather?

Perhaps you are mistaken,
and there never is any light when days are dark,
and there never are any sun-rays in the storm,
and you're conceptions are simply askew.

Are you delusional?
Perhaps I am insane,
for never looking at the moon at night,
during the cloudiest of days.
And I am so, so insane,
for never checking for any sun,
while I struggle to survive the winds of life.

Will I try and search for the moon's light,
in the wild forests and with the pitch-black glow,
and allow myself to get lost?
And will I try and search for the sunlight,
in the plains and amid the harsh hurricane,
and allow myself to get attacked?

It came to me tonight;
Today would be the day.
No longer would I suffer,
no longer would I feel pain.
With ambition I climbed on top of the chair,
finally ready.