I've seen relatively normal people go insane,
and it makes me wonder when someone
or something is going to pull my ticket.

Good things happen
To those
Who are
Inane

Behind a curtain
Blind to the eye
To this I am certain
The Dead Land resides

Watch with my soul
I seek thee
I stare into the scrying bowl
I see thee

Crying these diamond tears
Screaming your name
It falls to deaf ears
Darkness you remain

Knocking on the livings door
You want to be known
Your heart beat, no more
Like a bad call through a phone

You're fading in and out of life
The light no where to be seen
Shadows impale your being like a knife
And you're silent as you scream

Who ever knew
my best friend
would be a pen?

Take this pen and write the words
Slow as I watch them shape into meaning
Sad and sullen I write my tragedies
I write my pain and my happy
I write the dark and the light
I write the flight and my fights
But I can't seem to write how I feel
I can't even speak the words
It seems as though I'm writing a novel
To a strangers life
As though I don't even know who I am
Too bad I can't write my way back home
To that place inside of me
To bad I can't write my sight
So my blind eyes can see
To bad I can't write the pieces of me back together
To bad that my life seems like a work of fiction