that picture of you and me
I keep it in my memory.
dancing in The rain.
Sand in are feet.

He drinks more then usual

smoking more then usual

he's losing control

he's about to crash


Silence all around the room

Clear

Watching him go threw this kills them

Clear

There nothing that they can do

Clear

It's in his hands if he wants to keep fighting


He's happy more Then usual

Smiling more then usual

He found purposes

He now helps others

She sit there with the razor in her hand
every scare tells a Story
while blood Stains the carpet the thunder keeps Roaring
she just wants to escapes so she cuts deep with a razor
Wishing it will end her pain
but the rain just keep pouring
mascara running down her Face
the lighting keeps cracking
thunderstorm in the kitchen intoxicated
she trying to block out noise of bottles shattering
her body shaken what she is about to do
she picks up the pen her hands trembling
lays her head on the pillow
life draining from her arm
falling into a unconscious state of mind where she feels free at last
no more long sleeves in the school halls getting called names that she shouldn't of got called
no more coming back home to lighting..Her..thunderstorm,

Sipping lean Rolling blunts
Lite like fireflys
Bottles pouring
Bodys dropping
when you hear da devil start
Roaring,

Wind wishes

Flock of doves

Sun beams

Sea salt

Crack rocks

Thunderstorm

Lighthouse

far fog

Storm vicious

My tears should fall but they don't
so let the rain pour It's been so many years down this gravel road
lately the thunder Storm been out of control, thought I could hide it from the one I love the most its like the clock keeps on ticking but my world just stop spinning
its like a hour glass sooner then later I'll run out sand
flip it over  cycle becomes another cycle once again, will ever end

Look into his eyes, he is smiling at you. But inside, his hearts broken. The years show on his smooth face. The pain in each wrinkle the years of past. With every bright glimmer you see the pain and sorrow. He never lets this hold him back. He holds his head up high. For he has become the man he is because of his pain. His heart is open wide. Love for those around. Always putting others before his own. He only wants others happy, and at times there is a price. His own. His feelings he wears proudly. The canvas is his skin. He paints you a story and wears it with pride. With each buzz of the needle, dot of the ink. He becomes more the man he wants to be. His life is full of sorrow, trouble and turmoil. To see this man you know he has pain. But he wears that smile so bright for  you can't but have a smile along side.