A riveting and lustrous voice
      Echoes through the field
They sing ravishing arias
      Of the past of the meek
As many an ear carressed, so feeble
It seduces, allures the frail weeds

Blinking eyes dull through time
      In an everlasting symphony
The inspiring melodies through time
      In an exposition of frenzy
Preposterous voices, the arias feel,
Carrying the paradoxes and elegies

The empty shells from heaven
      Tending the scars of sleep
The remnant bells unscathed
      Mending the heart I keep
They ring and vibrate, resonating within
Brandishing their inherent melodies

Isolated serenity, the tones
Break
      For they interfere with
Peace
In a greyscale landscape
      For they break
In
P i e c e s
They broke
The harmony, in agony
They danced, amongst the husks of the weak

The brushes trace the corpses
      Of the deceased casts
They paint the territories
      The unsung had masked
A gesture of elation, pure deceit
A potpourri of mere imagery

Eventually everything ceases
What's left, is a painting of a requiem
Voices protruded through reticence
Hauntingly, beautiful intonations with them,
In grievous sonorous silence
It clouds the humane senses in thee

Am I just a wheel?
Consuming meals?
A speck in blue sea?
Bound by what I see?
Life amongst trees?
Breathing means free?

Am I my beliefs?
The truth I seek?
Flag of a country?
Defined by currency?
A liability?
Part of society?

Am I what you see?
The way you judge me?
The values you pick?
First impressions stick?
Norm defined by you?
Do I dare to be rude?

No...

I am who I choose.
I fill my own shoes.
I win when I lose.
I create my own views.
I see black beyond blue.
I pick me over you.

Who are we?
I am me.
Who are we?
Depends on you.

It flies amongst the stars.
Flashes for a moment.
Despite the left scars.
Holds a place close, yet far.

It carries the fallen.
From mistaken paths.
To reaches impossible.
And develops new plans.

It creates new countries.
Raises dead soldiers.
Stamps unsung heroes.
With a feeling of free.

Hear its silent sound.
Open up your eyes.
Place it in your heart.
Elevate from the ground.

It helps us climb.
Better than rope.
Do you see its shape?
It is hope.

Grab a feather
                                            Open your soul.

Grab some paper
                                         Make it your own.

And a small feather
                                             Shall be a brush,

And a small paper
                                        Your poems' canvas.

Depression, depression
I have depression.
Of course I'm just kidding.
I don't have depression.
I bury my feelings,
beneath my exterior.
You think this is serious,
but this is about glue.

A coat as white as snow
I only pale in comparison
To your pure colours
My coat is brown and ugly
I cover it with glue
and it worsens the problem
Your coat is so pretty
Why can't I be pretty?

Do you remember what you felt
When you stood with both feet on the ledge
And I pulled you in
Do you remember?

Do you remember what you saw
When the void drew all light away
And I lit your path
Do you remember?

Do you remember what you did
When you couldn't take it anymore
And I missed your depart
Do you remember?

Do you remember what I meant to you
Cause I don't

Tiny pebbles tumble down a staircase
Of concrete, rock and sand
They keep their momentum going
With the assistance of the wind

Tiny droplets cover the decks
Of thousands of fleet
Through the blanket of light
They ascend and dissipate in the sky

The mere occassion
Bonds narrowly with evocation
With assistance of the heavens
They coexist

But through painful contemplation
The momentum is lost
A fraction of an entity
But what am I?