We dream, don't we?
Of a place that we can belong?

A place of love, peace and grace.
A place of white clouds upon blue sky,
Lush fields,
And endless sunshine.

If Heaven is a place of purity and love,
why must we die to live a dream?

Wet mud and soil
and in the fray,
in the barrage of bullets,
He stands triumphantly.

His allies are dead,
His family are lost to him.
Behind him a flag waves and
Between the stripes and stars,
Splatters of blood soak the cloth.

Over the ocean, they hold the flag high.
For as the father of their country sits in an office
young men and woman die for him.
The flag of red, blue and white.
A symbol of patriotism to some.

To others though,
The flag waves blood, suffocation and bone.
Even those that hold it high.

For as the saliva of the war-hungry man
Drips from his lips,
And as the rotten words sprout from his pungent tongue,
Soldiers die with guns at their hips
And now the clock with hands on 12 is finally rung.

It follows through iridescent dreams.

It stares and it lingers.

It watches with saddened but dead eyes.

Sometimes you'll see it, most times you won't.

But either way, it is always there. Even when you awake from the nightmare, it remains.

Can you remember holding it?

Do you remember smiling as it giggled in your arms?

Do you think of it staring back at you as you lightly feel its soft skin?

No. Because you never did.

You never watched it take its first steps.

Heard it cry in the middle of the night.

Clean up after the mess that it had caused.

Or hear it call for you.

And now you never will.

Do you regret that day? That choice that you made?

Do you wonder to yourself what might have been?

If only that child was here today and you could tell it that you would love it and protect it.

Would you?

A hollow body withered by dread,
A corpse walking with a beating heart,
But a beaten brain.

He comes from inside and the sun burns his eyes,
Before the dark indoors engulf him once again,
How long will he remain hidden this time?

For so long he has lived like this,
Though many will not notice.
For he smiles and laughs when there are people around him,
But cries inside for he is still lonely.

When day turns to night,
He turns to the ceiling and sees
A small glimmer of hope,
The shadow of a rope.

When they find him they'll be different,
"I never knew!" They'll say.
But of course it's too late already,
There's no going back now.

A hollow body withered by death,
A corpse with a silent heart,
A corpse with an empty brain.

I live on the streets;
poor and cold.
Once so young,
now so old.

My wealth is gone
as are my clothes.

I wear nothing but a rag.

But all of this does not matter to me.
There's only one thing I really need..

Just a nice, hard ****.

She's just like the wind.
Slow and breezy.
The wind blows me away...

And so does she.

Vanity maybe when you see into a mirror, and love your body.
Self gratitude is when you look into the mirror and see your soul.
True love for yourself is when you no longer need a mirror to see yourself.