Thrown into wildness
I was thrown into wildness...

Law of the jungle runs deep in ones veins
food chain topped by vicious prowlers
if blood keeps running cold
murderous minds grow more bold
predators take pride in their
hunter's prowess.

Thrown into wildness
I was thrown into wildness.

Where fights in the dead of night
and greedy hands with high demands
are everyday life
all part of ulterior motives
and rotten plans.

Where pretentious intentions
are the cost of survival
and no saints nor prophets
are offered revival.
It's hard to stay calm...

It's hard to stay calm
when wrath's laid on the tip
of your palms.
Gluttonous man eaters drool
in the depths of the concrete jungle
over lustful people
whilst maintaining an iron ******
rule.

Thrown into-

The sad reality of living day to day
and sloth's not tolerated
unless you've royal blood
survival instincts often tempt
a few to stray
their ways forgotten rest
beneath the murky mud.

In the end, envy runs errands
against the common folk
for in the jungle defenceless insects
have no place in the grander plan
or any rights to live humble.

It's a vicious cycle that takes
its toll
being thrown into modern wildness
and when the sun goes down
and follows darkness,
the world is then devoid from
kindness,
and humanity is swallowed whole.

A ready mind becomes
a blade,
to shatter my
outlasting shade.
The past is but a mirror,
yet through it
I see clearer,
a wound deep carved
it stays.
In ways, it's never
over,
forever-this crusade.

Renew your vows,
as the wolf howls,
and now your spirit
burns this hide.
Again, again with
reckless pride,
you needn't see,
you're not danger
free.

A ready mind endures
the pain,
it hides away the wounds
are lain.
An eerie call,
some words begin
to fall,
but focus for it's time,
the black crow is perched
a sign.

Embrace the thought
in ways we're free
we fought.
Us differ from
the fool,
no masters here, no slaves
to rule.

My ready mind
is bright,
with need to help
for right.
A shadow in the night
protects,
this lonely wish for just
reflects.
So what if death is mine
alone,
a peacful mind is born
if my example stays
atone.

I don't mind
the pebble in my shoe
I don't mind
three words that lost their core
I don't mind
the hidden scars on my back
I don't mind anything
anymore.

Headlights shining in the dark
somewhere in my distant dreams,
raindrops seem to fall apart
by the train's incoming beams.

Underneath the greyish skies
where my memories exist
past regrets briefly appear
in the shape of two red lips.

Seas of fog pour down the streets
drowning sights and silhouettes,
shapeless creatures fail to flee
trapped within their hopeless nets.

Often, lights illuminate
blurry faces of the mind,
where the train tracks
intertwine -
there, my memories I'll find.