She asked me to write for her eyes
And other things less truer, true
I'm almost certain they were lies
As sure I am that they were blue

The color of the endless skies
A pretty, enigmatic hue
The sea, it rises, then it dies
Is it the color of those two?

You had asked me to write for your eyes
I can't give credit where it's not due
It was a fairly weak disguise-
You wanted me to write for you

Hey you with your
squinting eyes
judging the turns
on this foggy night
with your head held high
and ears in the clouds
life so young
as you listen to the sounds
weaving through the traffic
as your engine roars
and you answer with a finger
to those petty car horns
speeding through the fog
flashing your brights
blinded by the reflection
of your own bright light
you weren't humble enough
to dim yourself down
and now you've missed your exit
and you're looping around
for a head-on collision
with your own pride
all because your infinite focus
was on your self-centered inside

Every light makes a shadow
And every shadow is darkness.
The darkness holds a secret
A secret never to be revealed by the light.
Every person is light
But everyone holds a secret.
A secret buried deep within themselves
Covered in darkness.
When the light meets the darkness
They clash.
There is no neutral or gray.
In the end, only one is left standing.

Death doesn’t scare me.
Neither does the process
of dying.

What terrifies me,
more than anything else,
is the thought
Of not being alive.