Maybe there will come a day
Where children can just laugh and play
A day where hatred fades away
But that day is not today

Maybe there will come a time
With mutual love and lack of crime
Without war over nickels and dimes
But we are not yet in that time

Maybe there will be a place
Where smiles are on every face
And our lives won't be such a waste
But I doubt that you've found that place

Maybe we can forge a better Earth
Where money and objects have no worth
A world where birth is not a curse
But we have not yet formed that Earth

Maybe we can truly be
Home of the brave and land of the free
But that is a future I can't foresee
It only exists idealistically

Like a mental illness in your brain
The coming days will bring only pain
But this is life, we cannot complain
And maybe one day things will change

In my mind I'm still that same scared little boy,
Frantically playing with his toys in an attempt to forget what hurts him.
What frightens him.
The secret.
Somewhere in the fogginess of my childhood lies the key.
The key that first unlocked the door to my anguish.
Anguish that has stalked me into adulthood.
Like the secret.
I remember those terror stricken nights well.
What was I afraid would be hiding under my bed?
Or crawling in through my window?
Was it a repressed memory I feared would catch up to me?
A secret of abuse? Of Insanity?
It seemed the monster I feared was myself,
and the truth that only I can bring.
The secret.
Must I find it to feel whole again?
So I search.
Wandering through desolate subconscious paths in my mind.
Paths that lead to nowhere.
Maybe that's been it this whole time,
maybe nothing made me this way.
Just as a wolf is born with the thirst for blood.
I am a manifestation of sorrow,
The embodiment of my own hate,
I am the secret.

I wonder what will **** me first...
The thick smoke from your cigarettes
or
your sweet but devious smile

*Both leave me breathless

There are places traveled,
dark places,
that stain your heart
forever.
Yet those who've never been
pass judgement
on how
you should be
afterwards
and forever.
Somethings you
just
have
to see
for yourself,
explanations fail
with
the spoken
word
no matter
the effort
made.
You can't
hear
colors
or smell them.
It's the same
with places
far away,
in the dark,
long ago.
There are
no words
adequate,
or perhaps
horrific
is better,
more accurate,
in its inadequacies.
I gave that up
long ago
in the dark
by myself

I am a nomad
I travel place to place
Finding homes in people instead of houses

I am a flower
Always blooming new petals, no matter how harsh the winter frost
And for once I am going to plant my roots
In you

Improper goodbyes
blank stares
And lies.

Hesitant hellos
Apathy
And foes.

A dark thought process
Anger
And stress.

Blue sky's fade to grey
Love dies
And decays.

But the sun shines anyway
And I'm doin' okay.

Joyfully I skip through fields of daisies
Woefully I think until I'm crazy

I walk hand in hand with corpses,
And the streets we walk are morbid.
Roads lined with scorching torches,
And riddled with their organs.
Streets oh so solemn and sordid.

Skeletons stroll freely among me,
Blissfulness, they've taken from me.
They say "Hey, I'm sorry sonny,  
But life ain't always sunny."
So we walk together glumly.

The sky's are gray where we wander
And  the landscape is somber.
Nothing but endless time to ponder,
The endless days we have to squander