Music comes in many different ways.
It has a way of healing. The magic
it holds to change a person is
unbelievable. Music soothes
the soul                 but it also
can bring            many other
emotions                   as well.
It can                     take you
to another                          world.
Every song is               different, with
each its own          stories, relationships,
feelings                                    and

We live in a generation
Where the lack of verbal conversation
has made all of us blind.
We all hide behind
our shiny, protective screens
where what words truly mean
is blanketed by lighthearted connotations
followed by a lack of punctuation.

But those lighthearted phrases
Cause others to go through phases
Where the light is stolen from their hearts.
They see what others call jokes
as simply a hoax
to disguise with lies
the darkness hiding behind their eyes.
It is intended to hurt,
to prove their worth
and to unearth all your insecurities.
While some go through phases
others get caught in mazes
that drag them ever deeper
into the fiery flame pit of self hate.

This self hate, they do not appreciate.
They let themselves bite the bait
instead of getting the story straight.

We live in a time where the muscles of our thumbs
are stronger than the muscles of our minds.
Enough so that our eyes are blind
to the downfalls and issues of mankind.
“If I can’t see it, it isn’t there.”
Oh, but our satellites, those things up there?
And the tectonic plates below us where
some of the greatest destruction brews without a care.
...Those exist, right?
You can’t see those.
So you shove those away,
like a box of old clothes
and make way for your own
delightful fantasy you call your own.

“Life is hard.”
You don’t know hard,
until you see the scars
someone gouged into themselves
to escape the iron bars
weighing them down to life.

You don’t know hard
until you see someone’s mutation
from normalization
to one of pure starvation of love,
and devastation,
because they were a victim of miscreation.

You say you’re not bullies,
but you destroy someone’s life with relative ease,
tearing down their fragile shield of protection
and steering them in the wrong direction.

Just a simple word, directed towards someone,
“Stupid.” “Fat.” “Ugly.”
Can remove a person’s life completely of glee,
make the light vanish from their soul,
and make their life seem like the Dust Bowl.
There is no “making amends.”
So the next time you open your lips
and put your hands on your hips,
before the words roll off the tip
of your tongue,
Look into their eyes
and be willing to compromise
because you don’t know how they feel inside.
Sometimes it is better to be silent than to be heard
because the tragedies caused by the spoken word
are better left unheard.

Everyone has dreams,
and everything is not what it seems,
and before you see the streams
of tears running down their face
as they scream in frustration
that their life is a state of desolation
you’re better off being silent,
than violent.

And just as everything is not what it seems,
I…
am not what I seem...

I think Im rotting from the inside
A feeling of constant suffocation
A need to be wanted, loved
The beauty of it is on the outside
It's not a disaster
Embrace the fake smile
Force out the laughter
To scared to embrace flaws
That made you lose it all
From friends to family
I hate the late nights when I cry and ask myself what is wrong with me
After a while you learn
That picking fruit from the forbidden garden can't be the root to all your women problems
That your just an issue beyond the point solving
There is no point of solving
The sun can't hide it's tears from the sky
Eventually it'll rain
But as time passes
Strawberries grow from pain

The feeling was one of being forgotten.
The air stagnant, almost rotten.
The ceiling was a tonne of stone.
Beneath the foundation, I feel prone.
Sorting through the ration, and the emotion.
The pain. The rain.
A malfunctioning drain.
Overzealous. Overflowing.
The treacherous creature, furiously rowing.
Water on the stony floor,
from the Storm above the ground.
I never heard the thunder sound,
from the cell, where they dwell
in the dark.
And have never been to Sunset Park.
And never heard the rooster crowing
before its light.
Because they know it's not their fight.
In that case, it must be mine.
Is it my responsibility, for the sun to shine?
Did I paint the clouds of my own free will?
For people to sit on their window sill,
and glumly look upon the Grey.
Was it only me who had a say?
The truth is it was your day,
as much as it was mine.
And it was your crimes
that you did in your primes that shape the world today.
And then there were those who hid when they should have lived.
And thrived where I would have died.
We're threatened by light.
Found freedom in a lack of space
and victory at the end of every race.
I couldn't keep me safe, even with mace.
For I was dazed in the sun that blazed too hard in certain places.
But disappeared at random phases.
It is for them to bite the dust.
And lust for god knows what.
That will help me stem the rot
in your spine.
Even though you tell me everything is fine.