There is a riot in my head,
So chaotic, full of dread.
Fires burn over broken glass,
Spreading fast, blazing flesh.

They are looting everything,
Abducting unassuming strangers,
Harming innocent bystanders,
They flourish in the chaos they made.

They hate what they have become,
What they have chosen,
What they were given,
What they were left with.

There is a riot in my head,
But I just sit and watch instead.
How they demand more of the same,
How tomorrow will be more insane.

There is a riot in my head,
And here we don't bury the dead.

Shall we go, now?
To that place we so dearly cherish.
Somewhere we have been to before.
Truth be told, it is not that far away.

It could be that couch in the living room,
Where we settled into the night.
Or perhaps the rug underneath it,
Where we can play games and fight.

It could be that small bed,
Creaking in the summer wind.
Or the window where the sun sets,
When we watched as daylight thinned.

It could be the boat we were on,
Braving the storm, dauntless.
Or it could be the sea beneath,
Where we witnessed life flourish, relentless.

It could be up on a mountain,
Between the trees and the absence of light.
Or down by the beach of a small island,
Where we cover our eyes if the sun gets too bright.

It could be somewhere quiet,
Serene, wallowing in tranquility.
Or in the dusty embrace of bustling cities,
Where we would drift in the crowds.

It could be anywhere in the world,
Really, it matters little.
But there is one place we always want to be,
And that is right next to each other.

Perhaps sometimes in anger,
And other times, we'll suffer.
But we'll live together,
And then maybe we'll know,
what it is like to live forever.

We craft boats and ships of words.
So we do not drown in our hurricane of thoughts.
We'll make them worthy of the seas.
Of the crushing waves and deafening thunder.

Until the day we sink.
And see the life under.
Lonely but selfless,
Down we go.
Where our dreams lies,
Where our journey dies.

Far below,
In the heart of the sea
Of what should have,
But could never be.

****** is the one who loves,
When one can find no boundary.  
Cursed is the one who loves,
In joyful constant foolery.

For a lover's will,
It sees one be brittle.
Lest the heart is still,
And oh, so too gentle.

This is a story of a searing soul,
With blazing eyes, and burning will.
He flew straight up, unrelenting,
Until he glimpsed another soul.

A white empress of icy wings,
A beauty unlike any He had seen.
He flew ever faster and closer,
Ahead and above, She looks below.

Their eyes met, their paths crossed,
Their destinies entangled.
She was His dream's manifest,
And He was Her desired caress.

"Pray, enlighten me of your destiny, o fair spirit." He challenged.
"Why, of course the light above." she addressed.
"Then I shall fly by your side." he proposed.
"For our destinies are one." she declared.

Alas, they forged a bond.
Their essence brushed, their elements lust.
She froze His flames, as He burned Her ice.
What they had was unrivaled beauty.

Past the clouds reaching for the promise,
And lo, she behold.
A splitting sun, an unforeseen divide,
A divine somber where hearts shatter.

And when two fates can not be one,
Each must soar on their own.
With a different destiny,
Away from him, had she flown.

And in his flight towards his light,
Her soul became the shadow.
The ever lurking existence,
Of what once was above, is now below.

An overwhelming burden,
The remains of His dream's manifest,
The void of His heart's desire,
The bond his muse left asunder.

He wore blue, and she wore white
Keeping the true, the more, under their hide.
Looking as empty, they just don't bother
To discover the fact that they were meant for each other.

And, oh, do they met one day.
Under the bright sun in a crowded train.
Two pair of eyes found their way.
A stare so deep yet quite in vain.

When he wore blue and she wore white.
Unscathed by love, untouched by light.
Covered in shades of the daily races.
Disguised by the gaze of a thousand faces.                        

And so they went their own ways
Far, and astray, never to meet again.
Leaving a trail of where it ended,
As well as where it began.

I am the bitten.
I am the fallen.  
Once I was bludgeoned,
And left, and forgotten.

And then I flew,
Flew so high before I fell.
From the high heavens,
To the depths of hell.

Then came a hand, so soft and gentle
With an eye in its palm.
Bearing witness of my struggle,
Through every storm and every calm.

The hand gave me wings,
And threw flames to burn them off.
As I fell and fell,
Further and deeper to the voids of hell.

And so is the story of the falling man,
In the company of a lover's hand.
But he knows it will be grand,
When come the time to rise again.