Comfort me with your love,
let it wrap its arms around me,
lift me to infinity.

I feel lost in the alleys of my mind,
no guiding light or love to shine.
I fall into the dark recesses of my mind.
If only you were on time,
you'd be a savior.

Now you're just late.

I question sometimes if there is a love,
I have felt it before,
or so I think.
But since then,
nevermore.

I feel as if though,
I'm not asking for much.
Just someone to kiss and hold,
and do such things till we grow old.

Or just be my guiding light,
through these dark times.

Is that too much to ask?

I've been thinking,
but thinking can wait.
The world is fueled,
by evil and hate.

It ***** up,
all the right and leaves wrong.
Crooked men,
keep singing their song.

They corrupt and ****,
people like you.
Say they're the good guys,
the last of a few.

I know I'm higher,
than **** like them.
Better than the mud,
at the bottom of the pen.

I read papers,
they reek of sin.
I try my best,
not to let them in.

I keep my mindset,
looking forward.
Last I heard,
this world was falling apart.

I hope,
we can find.
I way to,
save all mankind.

If we don't,
it's no big deal.
We won't be here,
in one hundred years.

I'm waiting for you to come.

                 There's an open sore on my heart.

                                                         ­          It's bleeding profusely.

                                                 It's beating quite uselessly.

                                I feel my skull cracking.

                                                      ­             My head's split in half.

       My spine is bent backwards.

                                                There­ is no love afterwards.

                                                    ­                                                                 ­                         I fall silently into the night.

                                                         ­               I call quietly to hold you tight.

                                                         ­  I try mightily to do you right.

But still I find myself crawling.

When you look through the pummeling rain,
you see her standing there.
Her polka-dot red dress soaking wet,
as is her hair.

But when you reach out for her,
she disappears.
Nothing scares more,
than what you fear.

The fear of losing everything,
losing her.
Like having the world there,
in the palm of your hand,
only to drop it in the sewer.

And the grate is just to thin for you to reach in.

Sitting on a cliff,
the wind pushed him towards the edge.
Wounds he self inflicted,
on his arms and hands.

Soon he stood and then,
he let himself go.
He fell down and down,
to the ocean below.

What does it mean?
The life he lives.
It has him wondering,
what he's worth.
Is there worth,
in the time he's spent?
Or is he just the living dead.

When he crashed into the waves,
they tossed him up and down.
But he was not shaken,
he just kept trying to drown.

It wasn't till,
he saw a beach,
when he began to swim,
to loving peace.

He lived love,
and he lost.
Had he gone,
far enough?
Is there no,
turning back?
He's living death.

When he reached the shore of hymns,
night had fallen.
So he praised the moon,
guided by it's light,
he survived,
he's alive.

There is life,
and there's death.
There's an in between,
in which some of us live.
Those few of us,
lost in our heads,
we are the living dead.

Seeping through the pores in their suffocated skin,
it whirls and it whimpers in the whipping wind.
It flows through the veins of the teens,
it echoes in their unbound screams,
the angst that they feel is nothing to go unseen.

They wield a weapon more powerful than their fist,
but they still can't stop the urge of cutting their wrists.
Their minds are as strong as their bones,
which hold up their hearts broken home,
they are stronger than all the stick and stones.

I don't believe in a lot of things,
but I believe in this generation.
We're teens with open hearts,
and open minds.