When on that morning so long ago,
Our hearts touched; I should've known,
that this relationship would soon leave us both alone,
and I would be the one to end it.

You act odd; lack basic care,
to many of my jokes you simply stare,
maybe you would be best off over there,
with another man.

You put on a smile; fake a face,
so that you can try to eliminate our space,
but the gap gets wider, and even more wide!
And now I can't see you on the other side.

Take your ugly dresses; I'll take my love,
and transport it somewhere far above.
I'll give it to someone who wants me there,
but our own relationship is done, I declare!

Is this the end?
Is this where the train meets its own caboose,
Where God meets Satan,
Where hope meets regret.
Am I going to see my end?
Will it take me by surprise
Or maybe I would conclude my own life,
Alone.

Haha
Loneliness is a joke,
I have myself to keep company with.
My own thoughts to adhere to,
Who cares about people?
We all die anyways,
We all die
We all
We.
All.

"Please forgive me",
I can write that several times and wish something would change between us
But nothing is going to budge.
But I still hope.
I still hope.
Don't **** that part of me.
Don't **** parts of me.
Don't **** me.

I'm a book,
written in a foreign language;
one nobody can understand.

Try to comprehend;
you'll be met with confusion,
as you can't decipher what doesn't make sense.

Don't let a book lead your life,
Don't let a book help you out,
Don't let a book teach you something.

Just read the book,
see what you know,
and return it.
Immediately.

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.

Write on, you fine being.
Write on apart from me.
Write on from the east or west,
across a new sea.
Write on, my beloved.
Until the skies turn gray.
Write on, you fine being.
Write on far away.

Away you'll go;
far away to where nobody knows.
I'll stay here and go on so.
Without you.

When you were by my side,
a million worries died.
But all that is left is a whimper,
without you.

When we all began to cry,
when we touched the sky.
Where will our memories lie?
Without you.

Write on, you fine being.
Write on apart from me.
Write on from the east or west,
across a new sea.
Write on, my beloved.
Until the skies turn gray.
Write on, you fine being.
Write on far away.

With my teeth clenched,
And eyes shut tight,
I let my knife dictate my future.

I was an idiot.
I was a fool.
I mixed some things up,
and I'm sorry.

Ridicule me,
slander me,
taint my status.
Just please,
forgive me.

We all make mistakes,
some less than others,
others more than some,
and I more than others.

I didn't deserve this,
I didn't work for this.
I didn't need this,
So why did you do this?

For your own gain?
To point out a mistake,
which I regret so much.
I said sorry,
And I really meant it.

It must feel so, so good
to do what you've done.

I'm an outsider
I don't follow social norms.
But being an outsider has become the norm,
so am I...
normal?

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?

Today is yesterday's "tomorrow"

In unkempt sorrow, we often lie
with no hope ahead, we plan to die
as fear grows in strength, we suffer too
for we know not what we should do.

Hope may die in a sea of black,
but doubting its existence allows for attack,
cling to faith to fend this foe,
or else depression will be allowed to sough.

For as long as the sun may shine,
everything can change when given time.
Look to the future, and keep ambitions high
for there's no reason not to try.

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.

To everyone who has spurn,
to every hater who has made me learn,
to every despot who in hell will burn,
thank you.

To my desires, which I yearn,
to the men and women who barely earn,
to everyone whose lives have taken a downturn,
thank you.

For persisting in night and day,
for keeping this land free, I have to say,
that life isn't fair, you will sometimes go astray,
but the best thing to do is to work and stay.

Life.
From the sky to every tree,
it encompasses you and me.
It has no end, not for us
but it has an end to those unjust.
Ever so forgiving, yet so bittersweet.
A moral chance to prove a worth.

The cruel,
in their minds they're perfect people.
People who have done no wrong,
and deserve no hate.
We all make mistakes.

Mishaps,
They determine an unknown future;
an accident extended in cause.
Never to happen, always to come,
mistakes to life are 1-1.

Broken.
A window to an unknown sight.
The future to a reader's delight.
Every past problem you've ever felt,
inside a basket of the damage you've dealt.
Damage to others,
damage to me.
Damaging the Earth,
and humanity.

Sorrow.
Regret for the past of a person,
what's the use in feeling it?
You can't forgive every problem,
but you can't forget any trifle.

Depression.
The pressure of a person's feelings.
Raveled up in a box to ship and go.
The constant belittlement of a man,
to overtake him at demand.

Urging thoughts,
from the cruel.
Thoughts of life,
broken and shattered.
Destroyed by a mishap ever so large,
that only others can feel sorrow for the loss.

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.

All it took was one mistake
to change my life forever

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?

I can't stop thinking.
Thinking about the future,
about the past,
and about the present.
About time,
and about you and I.

Some things don't go together,
others do,
by nature.

As the day draws to a close,
and the breeze around us blows!
As the leaves from the trees,
encircles us in a twirl,
do you not feel our connection on this world?

From the skies overhead,
to the land below us,
Oh, can you feel it?
The sensations of nature;
ever so bountiful.

From the mountain tops,
to the ocean floor,
Oh, do you feel it?
It's the wine of love;
never to be dry.

These scars.
They will not heal.
They stand as a memento,
from a time long past.

If I ever meet a new person,
they would observe these marks,
and realize how insane I am.

They will run away from me,
they all do.
They all do.

I can't deal with the scars.
I can't deal with myself.
I can't deal with the future,
just like I couldn't deal with the past.

These wounds will stay,
even if I change,
so what's the use in sticking around,
and being reminded of them?