The Eiffel Tower, Mona Lisa, American Gothic, Old Cathedrals.
Were you given the opportunity,
you you visit these?
The Giant Bean in Chicago, Central Park, empty Insane Asylums renovated?
Most people would leap for the chance to see these in person.
They are kept well protected if not renovated.
What about a dying city,
where no one sees it's treasures?
An unused park,
beautiful but becoming emptier as the days go by with a vast space in the middle of a bustling city.
What about houses that are decorated, and painted in every hue?
Saving a neighborhood corrupted and invaded.
Here a house was fated to go up in flames,
rather than adored for the artist's creation.
Broken buildings, missing trains, amphitheaters vast but abandoned other than by the homeless.
Beautiful sights all of these - an obvious advantage for any city.
But no, tis not so.
Instead they go unnoticed and uncared for in a city who cares only about 'ruin ****'.
The destruction of once great artworks.

Isn't that what you wish for,
your perfect ending?
In truth it's what we strive for - happiness.
People change, learn, and grow.
They become better versions of themselves all for the sake of living life.
All for the sake of attaining that one goal.
But you.
I wish that for you.
If only you could hear the heavens and stars themselves sobbing for you,
because they know how this story will end.
You will continue this life of agony,
never truly understanding your own faults.
And they will become your unraveling.
You will sink to the very depths of the sea,
wishing you could only know what you did wrong.
The only answer you will find is: nothing.
It's not my fault.
It's never your fault.
Predictions are essentially impossible,
no one can dream to image what one's life will become.
But you,
You've been playing with fire since the beginning,
and it will never cease.
Your cycle will continue,
again and again,
in a relentless loop.
Until only death gazes upon you with pity.

Wisdom speaks in voices unheard,
It falls upon death ears,
and a mournful conscious.
When spoken few take the advice handed to them on a silver platter,
nor do they realize the pearls hidden within crisp, thoughtful words.
Heed advice that may fight at your side.
When stress and anxiety's rise
find comfort in those around you,
those who seek to save you from your own demise.
And yet, you will not listen.
You will continue you fail and cannot save yourself nor those you drag deeper down into your own tragedy.
How selfish you are.
Yet it is not your fault.
No, it will never be.
Because this advice can only ever fall upon death ears.

All I had ever seen was pitch darkness.
There was no light,
no conture.
Nothing.
Just blackness.
I had no hopes,
no dreams,
no aspirations.
I was just ... there.
But a light dwelled within my very soul,
it grew each day.
Shining brighter than the last.
Until it became powerful enough that it needed to escape the darkness.
And so I let it leave.
I lifted my finger and began to trace,
shapes and images first.
The light would seep through my finger,
creating the image before vanishing.
I continued,
it filled my days with more than bleak nothingness,
and soon I fell in love with this.
I drew anything and everything,
I write poems, and stories that lasted for mere seconds.
I began to want more than the darkness and wished to escape.
It's shadows heard my soul's plea.
Working to drown me from my desire,
It only grew and manifested more and more.
Sick of my prison,
I tore through the darkness,
seeking the light.
There I found a world in which my creations could last an eternity.

It's cold metal was gnawing at my forehead,
His weight shifting ever further,
Fear gripped me in it's clutches as I awaiting my last breath.
He equipped me with a last request,
Deciding to take my chances I questioned to see my demise.
I turned to face him ...
But what I saw was shocking.
I stumbled over myself,
gasping for breath.
I could hear my breathing as it quieted,
could barely feel the pain through my flesh.
All that was left was my last image.
In front of me he had stood,
shouldering a gun in his right,
while cradling a teddy in his left.
His boys behind him wore sickly masks,
he was adorned with a mask painted onto it with a cat's blushing smile.
I did not stumble in shock,
let it be known had this wound not have killed me,
the laughter would've.
It was truly an unexpected death.

Children of the lost,
you shall gather by my side,
hear these words for you.
The lost will reman lost,
their hope is forever gone.
Darkness has overcome their light,
and they will never seek it again.
You hold within you a beacon,
a chance bestowed upon only you,
use their darkness to lead yourself to the light,
learn from their mistakes.
You are not a monster,
nor empty screams fated to never be heard.
I find myself stuck within the realms of my own darkness,
but find light in this and travel to safety.
For it is something only you may do.

He was so young.
His father his sky,
and he a mere wonderer on Earth.
It happened suddenly,
and few could've predicted it.
The sky came tumbling to Earth.
in an explosion of trauma and anger,
He boy began to ruin his own life.
Few could understand him,
memories were his tormentor,
something they could not obtain.
How could they know what he felt,
they rarely remember that sky as he had.
And so the boy turned his face from the empty sky.
He took those memories for granted.
And began to waste away.
They noticed his pain,
could see the bonds that held him,
and wished to help,
but he denied,
and turned to poison instead.
Yet this could not bring back the sky,
and he fell deeper and deeper into the darkness.