I hate that my distraught thoughts leave me with a distraught mind
In order for one man to see a dream, another must be blind
That's how the world is
One side drowning in desperation while the other floats in bliss

Young children crying, parents dying
All for the sense of pride that never existed
Empty stomachs screaming in the code of negligence
Impediments, pressure to decimate appendix

South of life, dark side of the moon
Where gunshots spark and revenge is always soon
Minds leaning, heads swinging
Solid hopes lost in fog

The pen scratches from the position of the fortunate
Im good. But I know someone else is hitting snooze because they fear of being awaken into reality
These thoughts distraught my mind all the time
Carved on an angel's wing,

"It's the only thing keeping you human in a world full of roles"

We feel what we excessively bleed
And never what we regularly conceive.

And if i die before I cease the chance to live,
I pray to God that I rest in peace with my poetry to live,
and define my purpose,
before the world and all in it rests in pieces.

2 argue, 2 views
Division between heaven and hell to choose
For future consequence is in the present's possession
For Satan gets fueled under the influence of angel's attention

Friction in nature, Earth's pity
Running around the circumference of trust
Until it reaches out to me
For seasons to swift, in leaves' direction
For secret pseudonyms of alchemy, for tree trunks to flower knees

Pedals, poking its adversary
Intellectual reason behind each subject to agree
Thought provoking mind states of levity  a broad, perpetual, atmosphere we call **poetry

The brim of the lip drips
Ecstasy, misery, lust

The brim of the lip drips
Satisfaction is a must

The brim of the lip drips
Re-stating its birthmark on skin

The brim of the lip drips
Just like a new born baby's sins

Could,
could our thoughts be our own karma?

In the deep, dwelling thoughts, rusty sleep
Sleep for the weak, rest to reprimand peace
With bedazzled thoughts about her
Thoughts about me

With fantasies of reality that will never break breeze
The local world is supposed to park in its own lane when you sleep
Sheesh, but images of her voices are at its peak
A reality I touch but for me it's hard to keep