Alone

I question everything I am
My Life
My Goals
My Purpose
I look up at night and lie awake afraid to sleep,
Constantly wondering about the end
Afraid I will die with no one to hold
Afraid that no one will ever really know me
Afraid that the last moments I spend alive,
Will be spent feeling the way I always feel

Alone

I am not a boy
Nor am I a man
I am a sullen creep
From my problems I have ran

When you bleed it's your job to bandage the wound and your choice to let the blood flow.

With the very last ounce of strength
its tiny, broken body brings,
it takes one final shot at life,
and slowly, once more, ***** its wings.

Living* is hard
Dying is easy
The easy things aren’t worth doing
And the hard things are best done drunk.

What does your heart cost?
Can it be bought?
Not with money
That's a silly thought
A million kisses,
Maybe two
Gentle carresses
And "I Love You's"
Late night laughter,
Secrets whispered and kept
Promises of smiles
No tears to be wept
"How was your day?"
Asked with care
The complete reasurance
That I'll always be there
What does your heart cost?
I'll pay any price
Just to hold your heart
And see love in your eyes

If you walk with a purpose
Your feet will never tire


-Hadrian Veska

Her heart was full of bookmarks
From those who had once loved her pages,
But not enough to finish what they had started.

Hurt is rhyming to Heart, and love is no were near that.

God: Something everyone ponders. For the theist "what if he doesn't exist?" and to an atheist, "what if he does exist?"