I am forbidden from winning,
But no one really tries.
I am forbidden from loosing on purpose,
But no one really dies.
I'm forbidden to stand alone,
But everyone fears me.
I'm forbidden to shed a tear,
So no one will ever see me.
I'm forbidden from looking weak,
But I was never strong.
I'm forbidden from being right,
But you will hate me for being wrong.
I'm forbidden to even try,
But everyone thinks I go hard.
I'm forbidden aim high,
So I play the wrong card.
I'm forbidden to let them down,
But they don't appreciate my support.
I'm forbidden to beat the game,
So I have to abort.

When a gamer has no game,
He is really bad.
But when he is to respected,
It makes him really sad.

We control our worlds with a pen and pencil,
We shape their lives with our words and thoughts.
We give birth to our champions,
We sumon great evils to destroy our lands.
We light the fires to cast our lights of hope,
We darken the shadows that swell with despire.
We are the ones who are gods of our realms.
We are the authors.

We bring the end to the beginning,
We bring the beginning to the end,
We create worlds and realms in stroking,
We cause pain and suffering to mend,
We bring about darkness in shadow and flame,
We scatter hope to shine and bring about the light,
We create good and evil in fuition and in name,
We are the creators and the destroyers, it is our might,
We are gods among people,
We are the few among the many,
We are the authors.

From when our life first blossomed,
We have caused destruction.
Since our first steps in our life,
We are surrounded by misfortune.

Since our first word,
We have spoken lies.
Since our first argument,
We slaughter each other like flies.

Since the dawn of man,
Our souls have rotted.
But the strands of fate shall be,
Forever they are knotted.

But even in a life of sins,
There is always a pure.
For in each and every one of us,
There is a vital cure.

When you reach your hand in friendship,
The light shines down on them.
For only when you stand together,
The righteous sprite will walk with man.

Compassion is our savior,
Greed is our undoing.
As long as we have friends,
Strange patterns the fates are sewing.

Steps quiet, cloaked in black,
the night embraces me.
A rustle, a whisper of wind, the sent of fear,
I quiver with anticipation.
A shrill scream, the chase is on,
But my prey doesn't get far.
My blade pierces her back, and I announce my **** loudly,
MEEEEOOOWWWW.
With the mouse in my grasp,
I stalk into the night.

Have you ever noticed people look on our generation,
And tell us we are the ones who will change the world?
How they shower us with their hope,
And look forward to our great achievements?
Why are we the only ones expected to change the world?
Anyone of any age can, so why do the grown ups watch us instead of joining us?
It would go a lot faster with some help.
Please, that one guy on the couch thinking my daughter will be important,
Why not walk along side her to the road of importance?

Fire, bright fire,
Burning everywhere.
Cold, real cold,
Something strange is here.

Flames flickering, glinting eyes,
I think I'm being fallowed.
Water reflecting like a mirror,
In its stone hallow.

I look around, with great fear,
The fire has gone out.
I am in a cave, it's light depraved,
There is no way out.

An eerie light, I look around,
There is no one here.
I approach the pool, the air is cool,
I see a reflection there.

I see my face, it's the same,
But my eyes are totally new.
For in them I see, the true nature of me,
The creature who only I knew.

When we part our paths,
Our journeys shall begin.
But as I look back,
I know I will see you again.

I walk in the land of shadows,
While you seek out your light.
I shall discover my truth,
While you fight for what's right.

When we cross paths again,
We may be foes by all rights.
But we shall be different from the rest,
Cause as good friends, do we fight.

It's cold and wet,
And ever moving.
Slow and steady,
Ever soothing.

Babbles and whispers,
Never speaking.
Cutting and shifting,
Always digging.

It's name is clear,
Like a vivid dream.
The smooth clear water,
The silvery stream.

Here I stand,
I stand all alone.
All that stand against me,
Are dead to the bone.

My home lays in ruins,
Burned to the ground.
The end war victory,
Is nowhere to be found.

The battle is now long gone,
I live to tell the tale.
But the damage is still done,
The widows I hear wail.

Once beautiful lands turned to waste,
The blood has run dry.
Many freinds now lay dead,
As brothers we fought and died.

Now I am all that's left,
A country I have won.
But there is no greats feasts and life to be had,
As it was always sung.

War is mearly destruction,
Suffering and pain.
The price is high, for you shall die,
My warning is as clear as rain.

One sunny morning,
In the middle of the night,
Two dead men got up to fight.

They stood back to back,
And faced one another,
They drew their swords and shot each other.

One deaf policeman heard the noise,
And got up to stop those two dead boys.
If you don't believe my story is true,
Ask the blind man, he saw it to.

There are three types of people.

The first type are the pawns,
The ones who follow the rules blindly.
These people don't often know that their being controlled,
It's rather sad.

Then There's the second type of person, the players.
These people know about the game,
And use their power to resist and control the game
In their favor.

Then there's the last group of people, the masters.
These people learned of the game called life,
And they don't like what they see.
They change the world to meet their ideals,
For better or worse.

I know were I fall in,
So can I ask the question?

Which is you?

Why do humans fight?
Strike with all our might,
Against the blasted blight,
Who gave you a little fright?

But what about the blight?
What do they see?
Do they see a monster,
As ugly as could be?

They see a panicked destroyer,
As crazed and mindless as we are.
Because the only great threat in this world,
Is us, by quite far.

Broken body,
Old and weary.
You have lived a good life,
Long and merry.

You gaze on your home,
How long it has been.
You know your story is about to close,
And you think of your only sin.

The sin is known,
But no one believes.
The sin is long coming,
It does nothing but deceive.

The sin we pass to our children,
But they never know it.
It would sin of leaving them behind,
For fear of it breeds ignorant.

The sin is final passage,
For bringing mortal sorrow.
For when you go to sleep today,
And won't be back tomorrow.

Life is short,
Don't waste it.
For you never know when you die,
And will never Finnish it.

Beware, my words are my weapons,
With poison they always drip.
Only a fool would not feel,
the damage I inflict.

Her halo is forged by her smile,
Her wings feathered with innocent ignorance.
My angel shines bright with youth,
Her love for me more valuable than gold.
I love her so,
I never want to see the day when the heavens call her back.
I would gladly give up all fame and fortune,
Just to be by her side.
I love you Teara

What is an artist?
How are they difined?
Do they have more heart?
Do they have more mind?

An artist is a riddler,
As clever as can be.
They mearly take the things in their head,
And make it so you can see.

An artist is a painter,
Thier work's were colors are teaming.
Pastel or black and white,
If you look between the lines, you'll find a different meaning.

An artist is a designer,
Diverse in their crafts.
From boats, to planes, to shinning stars,
The possibilities are vast.

The meaning of this is simple,
Art isn't something that is made.
For art is alive, and it shall strive,
It's pure emotion will not fade.

All thes statements are true and more,
But missing one last thing.
For to make true art, you need a heart,
For with with soul your art shall sing.

It's dark. It's cold.
It hurts so much.
Why is it like this?
Why am I hurting so much?
Why can I no longer feel the pain?
My blood flows endlessly, but I'm still whole?
Why? Why am I here?
I feel dead, but I'm still alive.
There's a light. It's someone else?
Why is she crying? Why are those tears for me?
Why can you feel my pain when I can't?
I'm sorry. Please stop crying.

An argument is a war,
And my word is my sword.
As clever and powerful is my foe,
In the land of speech craft, I am lord.

Your eyes are your weakness,
They are windows into your soul.
The more you speak, the more ground you give,
Till my final blow takes its toll.

With your defences swept aside,
I see you for who you are.
In your defeated state,
On your heart, I see your scars.

Anger is like fire,
Capable of burning and destroying all in its path.
It can be bottled,
And it's flames will grow cold.
Bottled anger can shatter,
Often hurting it's holder more than it's target.