I remember war
I remember the last step from the door
I remember the bird that flew me by
and left me pondering the sky
I remember this feeling
The sun, the air, the smell I've been missing
I remember the sound
and the scream of my hometown
telling me I'm finally home
and I can rest these war-torn bones

You're not good enough, is all I hear,
"You're not good enough to be here,"
I thought this world was for all of us,
for you, for me, despite our faults

"You're not good enough to be here,"
why are those words all my ears hear?

despite those words; those empty threats,
I'll live my life for all the best,
a single life is all we get,
so use it wisely, without regret.

I raise the sun in the morning,
and the moon in the night.
I sing the stars into being,
and chase the darkness out of sight.

I blow the wind that moves the worlds,
and forge the rains that falls ahead.
I do this all, alone and scared
that you won't know me until I'm dead.

The weird sisters said their peace, at last.
And I could feel it--their poison that mixed with the air.
Like impure thought, blind to mortal eye, and true to its task.
"All hail, Macbeth, Thane of Cawdor," they plot their snare.

And me, the noble and fair man I've always been, I cursed this seance.
No usurped crown can take lightly to the mind of its host.
The same crown offered to none other than my Fleance.
For his sake, let God and men know, I will do the most.

I'm not exactly who you think I am,
the words I speak, I do not think,
I read your mind and see what you need to hear,
so I talk it, hoping you're listening,
It's not entirely my fault,
I was born without a face, empty, and dull

You only see those with eyes,
so I pretend to see to get by,
maybe I'm too young, too late, and too old,
but all I've ever known is the night and her cold,
All I really want is a new beginning,
all I've ever wanted to see in you was a face smiling,

So I'll pretend to be something I'm not,
until my last shred of identity rots,
because you wouldn't like who I am
under all the clothes is a wolf made of scam,
a wolf, young, scared, and confused,
so much, he doesn't know his own howl from the moon

Whatever you've heard of me,
in the sounds so thick you can barely see,
know this, this only truth to hold:
everything I did, everything sordid or bold,
I did it all for you,
and for your mother, too

To you, I will be a knight of the highest order,
a hero in shinning armor,
but to the world I will be a monster,
a vile, ugly, and disgusting disaster,

you will only know one side,
the one my heart dared not to hide,
and the world will know another,
the one my mind hope is the stronger,
but know this, I will always and forever protect you valiantly,
and your enemies, I will always and forever meet violently,

all I ask is for you to forgive me,
and know that daddy's a monster so you wont have to be

I love you
I love you with the strength to conquer nations
I love you with the will of three hundred Spartans
I love you
I love you more than the grandeur of king Louis the fourteenth
I've loved you since I was sixteen
I love you
I love you more than Loki is mischievous
I love you more than the previous
Do you love me?

Replying...

Expectation is the enemy.
It will corrupt you, and extend your madness to eternity.
Compassion is the true friend,
for fewer things are more descent than a trust that will not bend,
or a confidence that will not shatter.
Then, and only then, can the meaning of love be of matter.

Every part exist for a common reason:
the protection of the peace and the protection of our children,
so the head of the body must always stay sound,
and the body of the head must never unbound,

The head of the beast must never rest easy,
for the parts closest the neck will always be greedy,
and the part that are below the chest will aspire to rise,
so the head of the body must always be wise,
respectable, noble, and never is he wrong,
to feed the illusion that his will is still strong,

I think of the imperfections and impurity of love a lot--when it goes wrong, it can take a perfectly good person and turn them into this thing that is neither good nor bad, but forever wondering the gray areas of life. There, nothing good ever happens; things are just better than bad.

Politics is our last name,
it's where morality is slayed,
and our mind become stained,

You think kindness will save the world?
You think protest will help them learn?
You think peace is a clear word?
This is earth,
learn to survive it, or die its worse.

Dear, son
You may be nothing like me,
Or you may be my copy,
But always remember, you are not me,
And you should never aim to be

I'm sorry I had to choose your name,
And for that alone, I'll take the blame
But everything from here, whether my contrast or the same,
That is yours to claim.

But I do hope you are kind,
And I do know you are one of a kind,
and that is why your last name is not mine,
Don't fright, I am yours, and you are mine,

the sole reason is to give you a chance to be your own person,
Something of your mother's,  something of mine, but an entirely new version:
Your own thoughts, purpose, and vision,
Yet, with my instinct to make understanding the world a prime mission.

Take care of yourself, if I'm not here to do it for you,
Until then, I'll be waiting, and I know you will, too,
For you are my son, and if that means anything, it means you are no fool,
Be yourself, kiddo, whether the world think it's good or bad, alway be you.

My ears are deaf by the siren
a cold death took my skin
your perfect face changing the mood
your lips moving to your beat
a heart pound
a word escaping the vacuum
you are leaving
I am dying

a crack to the pillars of reality
Atlas, the great titan that holds heaven, gave
my world began to cave
another word to the hunt
sanity fled
the ending of an era
the turning of the tides
a last smile to say goodbye

like Pandora opening her treasured box
like a horror in midnight's eye
pain melted into armor
tears melted into dust
love melted into fire

life is unified husks on a spec of dust
In all, no bigger than a solitary  thought
A planet, doomed inside, lost in space
spent life on a voyage to senselessness

the forging of words of distraction;
grouped together like a bouquet of attraction
the dances, the arts, a place to mend the heart
steps through the trial of time, and awakening minute pulls apart
Too far to ever be whole
still close enough to behold
It will never end; it has never begun
So, despite rage and war, no love will be won

What is of a warrior wounded, defeated, and tired?
And define a soldier with no courage is a coward.
What names a bird forever banned from the sky?
And what says a wolf that cannot beg for the moon's light.

If purpose is the sure path to happiness,
what am I that I have so much less?

Where and how should the blame rest?
For the soldier and the bird, and even the wolf did their best.

could the message be ever so clear?
Could it be it be true we no longer belong here?

And that voice deep in our head that seems to know all,
what part will it play--to our victory or to our fall?

Enough... cradle your thoughts and let them not grow.
Now say your final goodbye, and take your leave home.

Before men were the Giants,
massive, strong, and free to be defiant,
they were ethereal, magical, and without distractions,
and their celestial bodies were filled with formless actions,

But then came the humans with simplicity,
reacting harshly to specificity,
thus ending the reign of the mighty Giants,
and entered the age of humans and tyrants,
which seemed to consume all signs of happiness,
and issue in a world of madness.

Romance looks to the moon as an enticing goddess,
a figure of light, and a mysterious likeness,
but I know her for what she truly is;
she is devious,
an enchantress,
and a mistress,

she has robbed the sun of Gaia,
from the shoulders of Atlas,
as she takes what she claims, to leave my mind in blackness
her presence may be soothing and it may be calm,
but offers no more but struggle and war,
with the yawning in the west, the other side roars,
with the strength of a billion, maybe two, maybe more

for ideas, you may know, are far from secret,
and the thoughts of your days are, too, not sacred,
so enters the moon, the pale enchantress
to take what is mine, and what I created

"Your fate was made from the start," he spoke in a riddle.
Each word is alone and disorganized, as an undone puzzle.
And the knife in his hand, to the right, and the purpose it had,
loosely held by a man who had recently gone mad.

"From the start?" the victim could only reply,
with his only thought the contemplation of how he will die.
Fear had conquered him; bought him, and held him.
But that was not his final mad mistake; the man was already dim.

"Everything is for a single reason," the assailant fit the knife where it has always been.
"Fate is neither ***** nor is it clean."
"It is neither late nor is it early."
"This the one truth we know truly."

"Time is inevitable; it makes slaves of us all."
"Your death is undeniable. Rebellion serves nothing but to stall."
The knife felt like a sheet of ice over his old his heart,
and the last thing he whispered before he died, "From the start?"

Like statues and lamps are alone when they stand,
alone here I am with no love and no friend,
so despite how far and wide I extend my hand,
still the voice echoes I am ******,
until eternity makes her final dance,
to take me to the realm of old men

American whispers are clouding your mind,
denying you of that time when you were kind.
Now their voices are rising nothing but war
against the desperate and the desperately poor.

But even then, underneath the soaring wings of pessimism,
A new humanity is born right through the cataclysm.
It cleanses the old that is slowly and surely dying,
and shuts the ears to American whispers with their lying.

When time stood on a minute
We were at last united
She looked up into the sky
where my face placed above a mile
and showered me with a smile
"Are you scared?" I whispered
my faith dreaded the answer
"Yes. I fell in love with you way too fast,"
she said at last
Another minute past
but I held it in its track

"I'm scared, too" I delivered uneasy
"You are," she said quickly
"Yes, petrified"
And another minute flied

"Promise me something," she moved closer in me
making my body her sanctuary
"What?" My emotions took care not to exclaim
"Whatever happens, we will always find a way,"
as she said, and I wish she stayed
"Look at me," I said with bravery,
"When I speak, you hear my voice; when I look, you see my eyes; and my face is naked of trickery."
She smiled with me
which we were both in need

"When do you leave to move in to your dorm?" I asked and ignored caution
"Tomorrow at nine," she said. "Tomorrow we start the beginning of our lives. Excited?"
"You start first. I won't see you for a month. I'm going to miss you so. But yes, I am ecstatic."
" I'm going to miss you, too. I love you," she breathed her last
and with her, the final minute, the sun collapsed

once upon a time into the heart of blindness
left an arrow at your behest
be you tiny Cupid or Artemis
your truest mark was not a miss
I felt your breath move in sin
and in weakness, I fear the descend
in more where eyes are baggage
where strong hearts are to be managed

Swept up beyond all clarity
my mind drowned in insanity
the more I resist the fight;
the more I valiantly suppose I'm all right;
the further away drew my life
you've impaled my innocence
and I have not been the same ever since

Who am I to stand against what blinds me,
and play, for ill or bless, the game's authority?

Could it be possible to be just a watcher?
A shade behind the scenes? A mind without a wonder?

If this world is to end, and is to end well,
why must I be the hero that sees its doomsday fail?

But save it, if I could,
then save it then, I should.

Without a cause, selfish, or malice,
should I burden your world like the Titan Atlas?

I am known for a hundred thousand reasons to be hated,
This, a foretold punishment for denying what's fated.

Finally, you are better than me,
I say, and yield my sword and shield, and take a knee.

Forgive me, if you will, my only crime:
assuming I could live my way this life of mine.

I've seen dishonesty at first hand,
and the success it brings the plan;
and to the planner, eternal greatness,
so why should I be more than lawless.

I lived with it; I laughed with it; I called it friend.
I learned from it that whatever comes in end,
your selfishness must always shadow your sins.

"He is doomed"
"They will hate him"
"He is too different"
"They will massacre him the minute he's him"
"they are greed"
"They are hate"
"They will **** him"
"They will alienate him"
"There is no hope"

Your words stung with a fiery wind
That brushed my skin with its strings
"He is doomed"
"There is no hope"
You were right to fear
the humans and their spears
They woke like a wave
A hell of no escape
They pounded and pounded
the rage they mounted
Their words like a warning
to all those who are daring
They sparked a fire underneath
that raises when I breathe
"You are not one of them"
"They will never love you"
"You don't belong here"

Why is your love built like a Jenga tower?
Why does it fall when my perfection cowers?
I'm just a stain in time,
crafting the best of Prometheus' crime:
his fire, his wisdom, his immortal life,
this and more to make you my wife.

Why wouldn't I?
Why wouldn't I try?
I always hated goodbyes,
so i'll say hello in the sun,
and i'll smile, even if your answer leaves me stunned.

Commit all your evils suddenly,
take care your generosity briefly,
and above all, respect all words you speak proudly,

So is the making of the greatest empires,
a house of thought built by kings and liars
to best prevent the world to drown it in fire

"Here son, see all this world I've heeded,"
"And in it I've allowed wolf and sheep,"
"The west to the first, and to the second, the east,"
"If ever, by chance or tragedy, they should meet,"
"They will understand that it was not meant to be,"
"for one is wolf, and the other, sheep,"
"more destined to part than a babe to weep,"

"And should they meet to discuss philosophy,"
"They will see to neither side reasonably,"
"for one is wolf, and the other, sheep,"
"neither is right nor wrong, but to the west, the wolf, and to sheep, the east,"

I am like a crow without a ******,
fated eternal nights to fill with wonder,
My wings are not weak, but I cannot leave the ground,
it is my mind that is the weight that holds me down.
I am stranded in a realm I will not survive,
and the locals, well, all they do is criticize.

They will never understand the sights I've seen,
the great heavens above, like mount Olympus that makes earth obscene.

All I ask for is to again fly,
with red feathers bleeding from the sky,
but I am alone this night, and every other.
if this is punishment, when will it be over?

Here I'm faced with the decision of gods and devils:
a single, poor, and lonely moment to test my evil.

My mind is starved, and my heart aches.
My unfortunate soul begs, "prithee, a break."

When next I wait; when the hour says I'm too late,
I could have molded the promised nights with your fate.

So now, the water inside rises to your eyes,
and still upon this subject my judgement flies.

But we will survive this,
forever shaken, and however less our bliss.

To whatever we commit, may they die in darkness;
So deep and too black for heaven's eye to ever find us.

To the sound of our guilt, may we bury it in the ground,
or to be flung into space, where it will not make a sound.
And the minds of the curious, may they never take chase,
to preserve a hero's honesty: A life without a face.

"And all this plight in the name of family?"
What else could more earn a savage's loyalty?

The perfect thing to make us into beasts,
guided alone by the thirst to eat,
but in us, a hunger to ever make right
all things we see wrong that hides in the light.

While we hold in the darkness, waiting for their call,
to forsaken our soul, lest we watch them all fall.

I say the human race is one of virtue,
noble and kind, and made of truth,

despite transgression and in all they are wrong,
it must be realized that they are still so young,

and look to all the care and greatness they've fashioned,
hope and will and goodness guiding their action,

when fumble, they panic and doubt and forsake all their self,
to a tempest and dark-wind to raise their distress

with that, in their worst, they are not as bad as they know,
so leave them to my watch, and I'll see that they grow.

Understanding sometimes seem like a natural destiny.
It seems something we are born of or born from, and shrouded in mystery.

Where the truth is rarely clear and the lies are deafeningly loud,
and all life is met at the crossroad, where they are bent or bowed.
There, a World Maker decides; a new world to be born.
And reality is stretched in two and, of course, torn.
One pulled to the left and the other dragged to the right.
But in you, a sure fear yours was made of untested blight.
And understanding?
Well, that's gone. Gone as suddenly as it was a kind of thing.

Love is maddening.
What we know of it is pitiful and saddening.
But a decision must be made.
So, again, I'll test my fate.

Birds took to the sky in a frenzy,
stirring up the wind and blowing white clouds into black.
what was once calm and fair became nervously uneasy,
and each step left the mark of failed generations on our backs.

Hesitantly the moment matures,
almost the like of children who refuses to grow.
Words were too ready to meet the future,
but I was too scared to admit what was so clear a blind man could hold.

The radio turned to play the same old song.
We've danced to it a thousand times, if I can count.
Never before have I ever loved for so long.
Never before have my heart ever taken so far down,
when you came and said the words I was too much a coward to utter:
"Baby, we need to talk," you broke the ominous silence,
and carefully and gently crafted the weapon of my ******.

All good intentions have spawned in me a state of unrest,
where when flirting with gods have left a hole inside chest.
Till "foul is fair, and fair is foul" am I truly at my best;
a Shakespearean rage to curse me to a prophesied death.

If I was older, I could have loved you right
I could have love how you smiled through me
I could have loved how you whispered into me
I could have loved how you yelled over me
I could have love how you hated me
I could have love how you held me
I could have loved how you stared into me

I could have loved you right
But I was too young
and so were you
I never told you
If I was older, I would have told you how I learned to spelled "love"
I did it for you
I would have told you how I compared your eyes to fire
I would have told you how I compared your skin to diamond
I would have told you how I compared your thoughts to gold

I was too young
too young to know I was losing you
If I was older, I would have fought for you
If I was older, I would have told you I love you

It seems my voice enters a void,
where it deepens alone to be destroyed,
in good times I am threatened to it quits,
pack my words, my mind, and all my wits,
to a far away planet away from earth's mess,
where light-years are tired, and ideas are mindless

but, alas, I have not wings like Icarus,
only his fire to make misery obvious,
falling back to earth, where it claims I belong,
falling back into the mess where none cares what is wrong

I keep seeing these imaginary spaces:
friends, family, and happy faces,
happiness and kindness all in one place,
and for a moment it makes me forget that I'm your shame,
but I know better than to be dazed,
by mental pictures and moving images,
I know to you, I'll always be a disgrace,
and the deepest and greatest of your mistakes

I hate nothing more than a human that mistakes sickening delusion with power.
I could be wrong, and so could they, but their arrogance is strongly manifested.
What's worst, they react like children when their logic is backed to a corner;
believing they were chosen from on-high, with purposes to our bested.

...stepped into the masquerade of life, the masked chaos we write, with message that we'll all be okay, all we really need is faith,
all the while keeping their truest honesty banished deep away.

But when the sun have given enough to earth's creatures,
when our only option is to give audience to Lethe,
will they finally respect nature,
or will they call onto their savior as the world ends their breathing ?

No real care must come from this,
Oh, thought a man seeking true bliss,

No love, no honor,
nor glory or valor,

stills a man's heart to beat in cower,
and bath his soul in tears of sour,

So no, no real care must come from this,
those who agree shall know no bliss.

Is it any wonder this is where my years rests?
Gathering words to uncover my best,
whilst I lie to myself that I hold no regrets.

In truth, this is my cry for help;
a silent wind carrying my yell,
a yell that every ear would have repelled.

So I banish my hope in a heroic's depth,
for every hero I conjure, an angel to save myself,
and every villain, a demon to take my breath.
And to this grim reality, I surrender what's left.

My story began in an old world, where I fell in love for the first,
I remember exactly the time when she quenched a thirst
I didn't know I had until it blinded me,
and from my fantasy, she set something unbelievable free

the world shifted to bring us to a collision course,
everything she was, her smile, her hair, her eyes, were the like of which beauty is sourced

We fell in love on Christmas eve,
and did what love commanded-- a promise never to leave
but her words were weak; they eventually broke
so I did what rationality had me, and hung from a ***** rope

In hell, where I thought I would meet the Devil,
instead, I met Ariel,
the arc angel of love,
"You denied life; you denied love," he said, with thunder roaring from above,
"You denied me"
"In place of eternal misery, You will be heaven's comedy,"

For my blasphemy, I was cursed me with the name "Cupid,"
I am to spend all walks of life spending love, but never feel it.

Write a song for me,
something I will remember in the morning,
because right now, there's nothing in my head worth remembering,
just an unclear image of what I'm becoming,

So write me a song,
And before long,
I will repay you for this wrong,
but for now, do me this favor and give me a place I belong.

My greatest fear in life is loneliness.
As I've been in it from origin, should I not be now fearless?

The nights may be calm and quiet,
but the mind is in always a riot.

A frenzy of images and sounds
that frees me from the man-made shackles to which i'm bound,

and sets me apart, either human or else.
Either way, I could not possibly care less.

a day is too short to see my best,
For I am imprisoned in a human shell,
Forced to see life in a cell of flesh,

I cannot see time like the gods of Rome, or Greece, or Christian kings
I cannot meet the sun or Apollo's greet.

So finnaly life has forced me to be just me,
without a choice,  that's what I'll be,
And I apologize if there's a time I cannot see.

War, in this time is all the chatter,
an unwrapped present left by our fathers,
to fight and die, to keep what's ours,
before our time begin to sour.

War is the echo that awakes peace,
a brutal moral taken from beasts,
before the new world was all but seized,
to cultivate human disease.

War, the best way we have to take what's another's,
the best way to ignore a child's bother,
but if we are so far evolved,
why must war be our prime resolve?

What should I compare you to?
Should I be Shakespeare, and compare you to the seasons?
Should I compare your eyes to the life of spring?
...your hair to the poetic autumn?
no
It's been done before.
So I'll compare you to memory,
because I will never forget you,
Though I know I will.

It's just another mental war,
when all the voices rise against the cause,
and the lights we aspire illuminates our faults.

To think only a god can take away this plight--
this white fire that screams through the pitch black night--
when all I've done is curse their names and challenge their right.
But now I can finally see. There is no strength left in me to end this fight.

I imagined I was special, born to follow a different path,
but here again I am with nothing but a wrath,
Now I imagine I am everything but special,
like a shadow with no profile,

So, finally, leave me be,
alone where I belong without your sympathy,
for I am nothing but a perfect storm coming,
take this as your last warning.

Leave and never return,
otherwise, you'll just be another fire to add to the burn.