Feeling memories of soft voices floating across the arid forests that are my memories of you,
Through the bleak terrain I see you, and your all too elusive smile.
Please come back, I think it'd be wonderfully unhealthy for my state of mind.
It's not often someone says "I love you." without thinking they mean it, but I think I do.
Trance-like remembrances of curly hair and deep thoughts permeate my head,
And I cannot help but wish that life was something that it is not,
Because it is worth the while, through mind's eye staring at your ghost.

In my heart I often find,
Sleepless nights and,
Seedless flowers,
Cloudy skies and,
Memories that were ours.

Soldiers stand, corralled like sheep,
Peaceful times turn to violence,
Even at night I cannot sleep,
And in this time there is no silence.

His mother's gift was not desirable.
All that he really wanted,
Was something soft,
Something short,
Something sweet,
Something that wouldn't make his nose bleed.

Now, I've heard of writer's block.
But is there such a thing as thinker's block?
Creative thoughts and habits have suddenly stopped.
Past securities and emotional bombs have been dropped.
Now all my thoughts have stopped, everything has stopped, as if blocked.

Black are the eyes,
Brutal are the kin,
Blind are the unwise and
Bruised is the skin