Standing on the front lines of destruction

Famine and solace extinguished life as we know it

Red stained waters rolling upon disturbed sand

The air is lifeless to one's eyes still opened

And silent to the expired

What was once a peaceful retreat has became panicked and strained

The sun isn't shining anymore, it's stuck behind a cloud hiding its tears

The moon no longer shows it's beauty for all to see

The stars don't shine anymore, they've become dull and rusted

The once beautiful ocean has no smile, and her waves don't peak

There is no wind felt, my hair doesn't blow anymore, the world is dead

Standing on the front lines of the end as its only survivor

Shivering and cold, shock has sit in

No blankets, no water, no way of communication

Everyone is gone...I remain on the front line

Staring and standing my ground

Weakened and tired, but determined

Fighting
A
Battle
Only
I
Can
See

_____________________

­when I was a kid,
I used to color,

I used to color the whole page,
inside,
and outside of the lines,
like how out of the box I was,
you couldn't contain all of me in a box,
even if you had boxes,
I'd escape,
and break free,

When I was a kid,
I colored inside,
and outside of the lines,

while in school they told me how I was out of line,
I was far from out of line,
I always made sure I was inside the lines,
but sometimes,
sometimes its as if my imagination got the best of me,
and I got to escape there conforment,
even if it was for a second it felt so great,
as if I was in prison and I got to go outside for the first time in years,
my adventures in my head couldn't break through to the real world,
like reality came in and arrested my imagination,

when I was a kid,
I stopped coloring outside of the lines,
and only colored inside,

To feel like a square peg going into a round hole,
as they tried to shaped me into what the saw to be as standard,
shaving down my unique edges,
like it was a crime to be so different,
as if I saw them try to expand to fit my square ways of thinking,
not once had they thought it could work out better,
then lining the squares and triangles and hexagons and countless others up,
to get sanded down to be as close as they could make them to be to a circle,

I'm not a kid anymore,
I'm much older now,

I still color inside the lines,
to make my beautiful pictures,
and sometimes,
like when I was a child,
I color outside the lines,

*because sometimes no one has to know,
when you've made a masterpiece,

Ticking karma on the wall
far across your soulless eyes,
in the dimmed of sadness in the past memories
haunted people for their reckless mouth

Ticking karma on the wall
watched every steps that you take
swam in the deepest of your sane daydream
waiting for your guts down and weak

Ticking karma on the wall
there wasn't a loner yet a pathetic body
you are just an old time harbor
and they are the ships

There was a ticking karma on the wall,
and all you can do is just watching them come and go.