No more dying
No more lying
No more crying
No more "why"ing
It's hard to keep
up with life
when in my hand, I hold a knife.
A friend of mine,
from long ago.
A life I feel,
I do not know.
My memories,
seem more like seas
of joy,
oh boy,
but that's not me.
Smiling inside,
I'd never be.
I'm the kid
inside the joke.
The joke inside of me.
I'm the kid
confused,
abused,
misused,
no news,
bad views,
refuse-
ing
to ever enjoy anything.
I will not sing,
nor bring,
a bit of sugar to the table,
I'm unstable.
The silent ticking bomb,
only doing things I know are wrong.
Echos piercing my ear drums,
from the bottom of dramatic lungs.
Staring at the sun for thrill,
a shriek of hope much like a pill.
I will only lie for me,
not for you,
can you not see?
I will only die for I,
it's far too simple
to say goodbye.

She could die any day.
Just tip-toe away.
                                                                But what would they say?
They still say she's okay.
                                                                      ...They don't say "please stay."
They cry when good men die.
They cry when they are scared.
They cry all the time.
They cry here.
They cry there.
So why?
                                                                                             Why?
Why for her,                                                               they don't cry?

Here she will fly                                                     between fire and sky,
                                                                                         in an ocean
her only air being devotion.
Life&Death; her only notion.
                                                                        Is it bad to wish for a potion?
A spell to make this spell go?
She may try so-,
                                                                                  but I just don't know.
Why?
                                                                                              Why?
                                                                                  Why can't they see?

The lost,
the falling,
she's calling
she gives them a sign,
she loses grasp of her life's line.
Why?
                                                                                              Why?
                                                                                  Why don't they cry?

Cry for her.
Care for her!
See her here!
                                                                                         Please..
                                                                                                   one tear.
Suppress her deepest fear.
Her pain is not mere.
She WILL fall,
if there is no bridge,
between the buildings in her mind.
She WILL tumble,
down,
if no one holds her hand,
and she get's left behind.
Save her.
Savor her.
For like this she will not last.
Deprived of what she needs,
internally she bleeds.
                                                                                             Cry
for just one day.
Prove to her,
she will be okay.
Teach her,
how to no be alone.
Love her,
don't leave her on her own.
                                                                                             Cry
Don't lie to her.
Don't act so refined.
She knows those lies,
she isn't blind.
And for once,
just for once,
when her thoughts have intertwined,
I beg of you,
I plead of you,
no one leave her behind.

Hey, say, do you like to play?
I loved to play, until that day.
The sky was dim, and there stood him.
The man who'd skim across my skin.
I falter of this 'hope' raft, "bye bye" I say, while away it draft.
I hold this shaft. my finding? I so daft.
I tremble thee, I, fallen angel, falling from heaven is painful.
My sanity is stable. My sanity is stable. My sanity is stable, would be quite the fable.
"That's just life" they say, but that makes me question why we stay.
"Mayday!" I note, "mayday!" My self-pity finally has gone and lead me astray.
I've become the cat-dog rain, screaming "save me," grain by grain.
I shall continue to abstain, until I prove, I'm now insane.

It all starts like a brick,
heavy,
shifting in your head.
You wish it'd just be lightning quick,
but it often tends to stay instead.

It makes you question everything,
No, you're not dead.
It's all in your head.
Just go back to bed.
By the way, you can't fix your problem with a med.

It's a cry
It's a scream
It's a begging self-philosophy.
I hold it up with a lie.
If it were a dream,
it wouldn't feel so real to me.

A storm in your mind,
all the creatures combine,
building up pressure,
they'll say that you're fine.
But that's not true,
they will lie to you,
then say there is nothing they can do.
They will fake,
your mind will bake.
It's not a feeling you can shake.
A lot is at stake.
I know.
I know where you go.
Digging yourself a dark, lonely hole.
Scratching out death, is your goal.
My migraine, is like a permanent stain.
Killing me; driving you insane.
I count the days like a prisoner in a cage.
I know how it feels, I still stand upon that stage.
Trying to withstand the rage,
and flip page by page,
but you can't even engage.
Since I was a kid,
it was no secret what the pain did,
yet I never hid.
I would just explode,
implode,
and be the **** you'd discover on the road,
maybe one day they will find a code.

And we all walk a lane,
for those who suffered this pain,
the agony of the grain.
That mysteriously grows in our brain.

This is not the person you once knew,
my face is dried and thin.
I haven't got the faintest clue,
how the picture remains,
nor who,
why,
or when.
I only recall some old 'honey' song
And how every line would begin,
"I love, love, love you."
As if to not speak of love was a sin.
I no longer know what to say or do,
struggling to remorse here once again.
It hasn't been very long,
but I feel I have forgotten the feel of your skin.

What is wrong?
You don't sing the normal song.
Your tune is so off,
the words all seem so wrong.
You're losing your mind?
You're falling apart?
This can't be out of the blue.
Just when did this start?
What don't you understand?
I can't help, if I don't know.
                                                           ­           What is wrong?
                                                          ­                      I'm trying to explain,
                                                        ­                   and I don't know why,
                                                            ­           but I feel so very vain,
                                                           ­                what was the song,
                                                           ­            I used to sing?
                                                           ­             I'm trying so hard.
                                                           ­            I'm on shattered glass.
                                                          ­          I'm holding these rocks,
                                                          ­       no, boulders of the past.
                                                           ­       I cry out to you,
                                                            ­    but what could you do?
                                                             ­       I'm so scared.
                                                         ­               I'm not strong.
What is wrong?
Please tell me what's wrong?
Why are you scared?
I know, you're not strong.
I don't know how to save you.
I'm no hero, you know.
I'm trying so hard to help you,
but I'm stuck in the front row.
We all love you,
just please,
tell us just what is it you need?
So that we can help you,
and heal as you bleed.
                                                          ­ What is wrong?
                                                          ­     I've changed.
                                                        ­          I'm running from my life.
                                                           ­                I've lost that 'optimistic' me.
                                                             ­           Now who am I left to be?
                                                        Have I fallen like an angel?
                                                          ­           Or am I still on earth?
                                                          ­              Why is pain so painful?
                                                        ­                   Just when did I disperse?
                                                       ­                 Where am I,
                                                              ­        if i'm not here?
                                                            Somehow I just disappear?
                                                      ­            I'm unstable.
                                                       ­                  Save me.
                                                             ­   Save me.
                                                             ­        Save me.
                                                             ­         I plead.
                                                          ­    Tell me the answer I really need.
What    is    wrong-                                      with me?

He bit the curb.
Does that make you disturbed?
She laughed at tears.
Does that deepen your fears?
They don't know when to stop.
There's no stop signs in this town.
If it's you, life's sad.
But if it's them they shouldn't make a sound.
Some don't fit in,
and they just can't help it,
no matter where they been.
I guess no one really developed it.

Whom I kiddin?
Some people are fake,
on the outside their only,
the character they make.

"Who wants to run like me?
Who wants to get away?
I look around,
but they all seem A-okay."
Well if he judged you,
He'd seem to be just fine.
But you'd never guess,
He's scared of being left behind.
If she beat you and spit in your face,
you'd figure she was spoiled,
but her life was just so misplaced.

Why do they have to smile?
Why do they have to drown?
Why do they have to go away,
after smashing into cold, hard ground?

I'd say you need a lesson,
but you've probably had one too.
Stop being arrogant,
if there's one thing that you do.

They've seen the grey clouds,
and you've seen the rain.
And surprisingly we've all gone insane.
So why drive us mad?
Why call us bad?
Make us sad?
What have I done?
Nothing,
but yet I'm being pushed.
Off my feet, off the swings, off the air, off the edge.
By you, by them, by me, by life?
I'm going to stand here,
and proclaim to the skies.
"For once, let this life be mine!"
"And please vanish the outer lies!"

I drank the alcohol, expecting something.
boy was I let down, when I got nothing.
No silly laughter, or grand horror story.
No youtube video, or easy talk for me.
Just a headache or two and a feeling of suffocation.
Just a scolding from people, and a dizzy sensation.
The bottle looked nice, and tv shows made it seem fun,
but after 3 gulps, I just felt like a street ***.
So I said goodbye to armpit beer,
and I assure no rose wine here.
*** is for pirates,
much too complicated for me.
I'm done with heartache alcohol,
as you can plainly see.

Often I think I'd scream,
"but no one listens,"
but no one listens.

Yesterday was sour, so today will be sweet.
Today was bitter, so tomorrow will be neat.
I just have to hold on tight.
Slide down 1,2,1,2.
And I know I'll be alright,
but fixing this is something I can't do.

I've been cursed a gruesome pain. I must spend odd days feeling insane. But even, my smile will be on the other days. Still is it worth the tragedy it pays? If I could run from fate, I wouldn't wait. I'd go so far away. I wouldn't look back any day.

People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

But we could be a family.
We could be a whole.
We could be together.
But no one could be cold.

If we could live on an island,
no hate,
no guns,
no war.
We'd look back and wonder,
what was it all for?

People diein' on the streets.
****** puddles at our feets.

Gangs,
tempts,
nudes,
exempts.

We sit at desk,
eating or eaten.
we laughed at or laughing.
beating or bleedin'.

We know the truth, but call it cruel.
The cruel one is we, the blind fool.

People diein' on the streets
****** puddles at our feets.

Who shot the most guns?
Who then killed them all?
Who didn't mind a casualty?
Who could be responsible?

"Not me!" we cry,
"I'm a good soul."
But even if we declined,
can I be told where they go?

I get the crust and the gristle of a thistle once a missile shooting out into the sky and I cry, wonder why. Never sure what I feel for the meal of a deal and then words more like air slip the breeze in my hair, butterflies in the skies killing what kept my alive. Oh too bad, well how sad, if the songs last lines din't matter it'd harm, it'd make the soul so very mad. Here I fall, there I stand like a robot dancing to the tunes. It's demand. Hear I laugh, hear I cry. I hear the screams and feel the burn, so why? Why unsure, of what's telling me my life is so impure. Threatened heart, from the strings that wrap it, tearing it apart. Feel the clench of a bundle of what you yourself have drench and so benched. And you threw to me the horror show, I never so have thought would reckon me to be. I, to be, it's master and it's longing family, here I cry. Hear "I" cry. For I exist in heart, but never, not in mind. There I stand once again as a memory of all that I pretend. If I tried, to be real, the pieces fall apart inside. So I hide, then I quiver and I shake as 'me' is inside. I can touch to the shelter covered in the unbelieving, underachieving to be who I know I am to be. Or at least what you see. I crush the old me and start anew, though I grew. I, immortal to myself have stomped the true. And I become something greater than simple little shrew. Do not lie! For I see with one eye, the look through me. What you see is a host, not the ghost, that lives on. "Awh, look at me. I'm so strong!" Laugh along. Child there. Where? Oops, forgot to care. Now I stare, towards the end that's never ending like this script. Never ending. Twist and bending. Don't kid me, I'm no kid. I'm the body of a youth, but I am dead. I've destroyed myself, if others didn't do a perfect job. Hold up stop! I'm letting go, a bubble that will pop. It will burst, destroying me, if it doesn't **** me first. Here I stand. Hear I cry. There I go. I have died.