We look to our imagination for answers.
We seek from the all knowing ******* book.
Who are we?
Ask the judgmental ******* in the clouds.
I don't mean to disrespect,
but why should we follow a book?
And why do we choose the one one that forces beliefs and lifestyles down our throat?
His almighty just chooses a argument and makes us pick his side.
It is human nature to change,
yet the book has never.
Close your **** service and open your eyes.
The hate you preach is just a wanna be genocide.
Forget the easy choice think for your self

In his Innocence,
He asked me a question.
When the words slipped out,
I felt the first tear slip free.
I felt the makeshift sling,
The one my heart lay in slip away,
I felt it tear away under the burden of my answer.
I welled up not with anger,
But with sadness and Envy.
For I could feel no anger towards him.
In his innocence he know not what he had done.
And for that his downfall was his best quality.
I wanted to tell him to hold onto that innocence,
Because I know all too well
When it's taken, it's ripped from our careless hands.
I wished him luck;
For him it wasn't the end it wasn't even the beginning of the end,
But soon it would be the end of the beginning.
So in his innocence I forgave him for bringing up those emotions I've been burying.
In his innocence.

Just a name they say.
Live on they tell me.
Go day by day,
Live in his memory,
Go on for him,
It will only get better,
You'll find another,
No I won't.
He can't be replaced, or forgotten
Shame on your ignorance for even suggesting that.
Watching him writhing,
His cold lifeless eyes.
Do you know how it feels to watch your best, oldest, and only friend to begin his journey.
His journey to whatever is beyond the end?
Do you understand how it feels to gain hope with each shudder?
I cried on his cold shoulder until the vet dragged me away.
It wasn't a storytale death.
I tried to close his eyes,
But they refused to stay shut.
So with him my only chance of happiness died.

The answers we seek,
are the answers we hide.
We bury them beneath our brains.
We pile high above them with concepts and ideals.
What question do you mean to ask?
What answer do you hope to find?
How can you hide behind that cheap high?
How can you cover up those scars,
with only a phony smile?
This is the question I most want to ask.
This is the answer I seek not halfheartedly,
but with every breath and every second.
How can you not see this pain?
I don't even try to hide it anymore.
Not when I know a soul can't reveal itself to anybody.
Not when I know nobody wants my soul to reveal itself.

In a world of beauty
It's hard to see it for what it truly is
a world of beauty
It is our nature to blind ourselves with pain
It is our nature to be destructive
It is our nature to be reckless
We stomp down the beauty
Just to make our path
But destruction is just careless creation
To destroy is to create
And to create is to destroy
A clear canvas at it's purest is a sight for longing eyes
Yet we poison it with paint
We imprison it in illustrations