The math adds up I can't deny. I find most men weren't made to fly. Solid bones pull me down, wingless I still touch the ground. I yearn for something higher.
standing wordless yet repeating my desires. I feel the smoke on my soul, my heart like a coal. My minds a machine, churning out dreams. Unreachable, unreachable, without means I lie still. And hope to find a way to reconstruct my will. So I can float in a apparatus surviving but not striving like every other human being.

Poetry speaks from the soul.
and the soul speaks of who we are.
I know what the words say about you.
Bur what do the words I say about me?

I look but never see, stuck in reflections of me. Shadows in the looking glass. Past pasts by so fast. Time retreats to a recluse refuses service to my muse.
How stuck I am in memory, like thunder striking at the sea.
I falter now but when I fall, I hope time will not stall.

Men speak of evil. How do they know it so? Men speak of the evil that lives down below? They might give it colors and maybe a face? But its only fear standing in its place.
Men speak of angels to oppose devils down below. But they only punish men who knew evil as friend not foe.
Men speak of evil as a man or as a thing. Something that's been given life by a greater being.
Evil is a act, not one of god.
Men may speak of evil but they don't truly understand, evil is committed by the deeds of thy own hand.
no demon will credit himself of you, the evil that you do? That is a choice made by you.

I looked into sky blue eyes, in her spirit a warrior cries. Showering the violet nights with angel beams of sunlight. Cold is the world when they close, the beauty of a budding rose.
Hanging smoke in the air we inhale, but we don't care. we wait again for sky blue eyes, even if at our last goodbyes.

Only when she leaves. Only when she's lost. Will you come to realize, you are starcrossed.

All alone I carve my path in stone. With a blade. And with a bone.