Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Father snail Jun 2017
out of all things he do he dont
want to fall fail so he wont
but he will keep pushing on through
ink and paper he writes his mood
all lies and truth lays flat on his canvas
blank blink to see if its happening
to him all over again
they whispers in echoes in is head
from his feet it blisters carrying what is to be
the world thats colorful but blue like the sea
his boat drift into no where
with his heart that thumps with no care
ever given the chance
that one day him and death may dance
under the moon where his thoughts bloom
like flower that numb his brittle bone too
weaken to even stand
up like the sun because his life just begun
Father snail Jun 2017
Inspired by the fire that dances
Dare to touch it
Blistering his hands
Wanting to feel the inspiration
The desperation
To write
To vent out like smoke from a chimney
To find what was lost
A flame in the dark
Father snail Jun 2017
if i ask why im suffering who do i ask why
if theres a god above will he explain through the sky
or will my mind tell me everything is alright
its hard to keep strong during the stormy night
if i have a sad day and want to die
will be depression that kills
or just me wanting to fly
if you trap a bird to keep it bond
will it sing with joy
or sing with gray sound
this is my mind fighting the voices
who has the answers to all of my questions
define them myself and ill be mad
leave it to a high power and ill be dead
strong emotions are the ones that takes me away
ether artistic or devastating its hard for me to say
i dont pray dont believe
but i still feel punished for all of these things
until i close my eyes and just think
its reality and there no more to say
things i think of when i go through my depression

— The End —