Fresh glass sits aside
never to be drank
but hides in a darkened space
to waste the fresh liquid it takes.
Stale in the morning
without warning
a child cries for help,
dehydration causes frustration
for those who wastes it's prize.

Lost to the cost
of family gone
puzzle of sorrow
fill the space
an empty case
sits in a lake
full of sorrow
no tomorrow
study the cost
all is lost
money gone
bills to pay
waste the day
to hide away
family gone
morn the loss

Every night I lye awake and think of you
Of what we had
Lost in the waters
Far at sea
Every night
My love
I can't bear
To never see you again
Come back
Please
Come back
If I could only see you smile
If you could laugh
If it could be the same as before
But your lost at sea
Sailing away
To ever be
Gone from me

Such strong defining words
pushing back the thoughts.
Can't think.
Hyperventilate
The numbers combining
and lost in a jumble of unknown
acronyms forbidding the use of
adjectives and nouns.
Unsure of what to put
The clock runs out of time.
Deprived of the right to completion
in a world where numbers mean
everything and words are just
starting to show.
Why can't people make notice
Of the important notes in life
An just forget about the numbers.

Nothing left
to forget
of the day,
for I am gone
no memory stays
to remember wastes the day
for only us
to see is gone
and human race
have left the space,
and in my heart
I have know
people transmit despair,
for what is left
i do forget
a life known of lose.

The Fugitive slept through the first dangerous night
With augmented vigilance towards the sky.
Search planes meticulously detect
through isolated landscapes
far from any human habitation.
Frequencies diminished
for searches are haphazard
with communities far behind.
The fugitive tentatively rode through daylight
for unknown landscapes hold hidden,
unfamiliar perils.
Cold liquid rushes through roadside gullies,
while creatures hide amongst
dark and mysterious forests.
The fugitive enjoyed
the throaty warble of new birds nearby,
and listening to the wind shift
the leafs in the trees,
Never having felt these simple moments
of exquisite happiness.
The Fugitive most relentless fears
of starvation appear.
Tortured by hunger,
forced to hack away with stone,
at raw skin of fish.
The fugitive
once yearning for choice,
then with choice,
made wrong ones,
remembering,
suddenly,
grimly,
living a life hungry
for feelings,
colour,
and love.
For the child
had no choice at life at all.

Strike the clock
family lost
at the red blood wedding
from the evil the concurs the land,
For a girl hides
but no mother cries
when her daughter is married away
                 trapped in their clutches to stay.
No armoured men go off to war
but only soldiers from far away.
Snow hasn't fallen
but winter is calling
Far north of the wall
                    It awake.

Lips pale
mouth dry
skin rough
eyes wide
tongue out
soft nose
Hands tight
feet warm
legs numb
side cold
hair done
neat clothes