I thought we could run
where love could save us.
I thought we could hide
where lights wouldn't chase us.
I was wrong.
What a glorious fall we had.
It was a tedious climb to the top,
but a nearly effortless drop.
What a glorious fall we had!
But how suddenly we came to a stop.

I'm breathing you in,
when I want you out.
On me, you're a tear gas --
choking me; unable to shout.
You're with me long after the battle.
What a glorious fall we had.
It was a tedious climb to the top,
but, oh, what a nearly effortless drop.
What a glorious fall we had!
But how suddenly we came to a stop.

I'm trying to erase you, but
you're a drum
that beats loud and clear.
Even with miles to overcome,
I can hear your booming beat.
What a glorious fall we had.
It was a tedious climb to the top,
but, oh, what an effortless drop!
What a glorious fall we had,
but how suddenly we came to a stop.

My heart hangs hellaciously,
swinging on sickened strings,
bleeding blackened blood and
singing sad songs to itself.
It's a new creature,
a freshly feathered phoenix,
the hatred hardening the heart
until the blackened blood
drips and dries
to reveal an
opaque obsidian coat --
a thing of great omnipotent and omniscient.

Right place, wrong time.
That’s me.
Right intention, wrong action.
That’s me.
The crime was not mine,
but I'm the one left at the scene.
The criminal runs free,
while I’m locked away.
I arrived to help,
only to be blamed.

Let’s blame the cat
for stealing the acorns.
Let’s punish the fish
for ruining the carpet.
Let’s pull out the flowers
for getting stung.

They were in the right place,
Wrong time.
They had the right intention,
Wrong action.
The crime was not theirs,
but they’re the ones at the scene.
The criminal runs free,
while they’re locked away.
They’re only there to help,
only to be blamed.

Yesterday is still fresh in my mind,
Like the bee sting I got on my behind.
This day was a day to make things right,
A day to show your might.
Yesterday was the greatest day in many ways,
But alas the days of yesterday are behind us.

Today is a new day,
It is a day of new decisions and actions in a way,
But today is a day for forgiving,
And a day of what the world will bring.
This day comes and goes but will never be forgotten
Like a ripe fruit that will never be rotten.

Tomorrow is a day of opportunities,
The day can also be 24 hours of lies.
Nobody knows just what can happen tomorrow.
It can be a day of sorrow,
Or a day of pure greatness.
It is always a mystery but can always be molded
In to what you want if you make great dicisions.

The construction of the human face,
is the way it is for a reason.
He gave us eyes to see,
a nose to smell,
ears to listen,
a mouth to speak,
a tongue to taste.
He gave her ears,
yet she refuses to use them properly
He gave me a mouth,
but I don't know why I talk half the time,
because she refuses to listen.
Her body language indicates that she is aware,
but her eyes,
they glaze over in a way that makes my soul thrash about.
My words,
like pollen in the spring wind,
float to her,
goes in one ear,
and straight out the other.
Like acid,
my tears scar my skin and
Like a shower,
it never seems to end.
I am not your mask,
you can not parade around through me.
You say that
"Some people don't realize it,
until someone else tells them."
I've told you,
yet you cover your ears like in your youth.
You tell me to fly,
but when I try to jump,
you pinch my wings?
How can I learn
if you won't let me tumble?
I am not you,
so stop comparing us.
We may share a similar face,
but this body and mind is not yours.
I am no puppet,
you can not control me.
You're deft not because you can't hear,
but because you refuse to understand.
You are not empathetic.
You refuse to see me through my eyes.
God gave you ears for a reason,
It's about time you learned to use them --
correctly.

They are forever frozen,
reaching, stretching
towards the skies above.

They are told they
can touch the stars,
just out of reach.

Armies of them are placed
together -- frozen in the battle
to achieve their goal.

Wars are fought, lives lost
seasons past, years fly
they stand there - forever frozen.

Some are as ancient as the
stars themselves,
others are born into the world
with this impossible task.

They are imprisoned
by the earth
but still reach for the stars:
Soldiers
Prisoners
Trees.

Silence sits heavy in the air around me,
Light whispers flitter above my head,
Studiers in the corner and writers on computers,
It almost sounds like sleeping or waking the dead.
A dreamer at his desk, maybe he is dead,
          His dream is peaceful and mislead.

And still, we sit here, with books lain amuss.
They have claimed this desk their newfound bed.
And so they stare at me, waiting to be opened,
Wanting to be peeked at, or better yet, read.
A story to be read, but the ending I dread,
          The ending where we are all dead.

An ending like such deserves no better from I
But sadly, these endings are published and read.
And who's not to say their words are not true?
A prophet? Yes, it might be - the story we all dread -
the book in which it is not pretty, but red.
          The ending for the dead.