Life is a repeating cycle...
everything you have ever seen
has been seen before
everything you have felt
has been felt before
everything you have touched
has been touched before
every emotion you have had
has already been had before

The only difference is...
it's been done by someone else
or in a different body
during a different life
or a different time
when you were young
or in the years to come
it will repeat and has repeated
for thousands of years

The anger, love, passion, and even
your personal thoughts.
they are never truly yours
others have had the exact same
perhaps towards a different soul
perhaps the same soul but a different time

It all repeats, and it always will repeat
I look at the young, as well as the old
and it's always the same
the only difference is... there faces

Nightmares steal the sleep from me.
My mind is my, worst enemy.
The monsters are inside my head.
Where torture comes, in sheets of red.

I toss and turn and cry all night.
But no one hears, my mental fight.
Is this what's left, of reality?
When I run to find, my sanity.

I bang my head against the wall.
When the monsters, in my mind do call.
There high pitch screech is what I hear.
But the crimson, left behind I fear.

There's a battle going on, inside my head,
If I don't run, I will be dead.
Walls are tumbling, all around.
And bodies cover, the ****** ground.

I wake up all drenched in sweat.
A cup of coffee, I go and get.
No more sleep for me that night.
Sleep will come with strength to fight.

The ancient cry, of the wolf I hear.
Out in the darkness, they come near.
They live in packs, so you can see.
A family's what, they want to be.

They hunt to live, and live to hunt.
From the biggest wolf, down to the runt.
Out in the darkness, home sweet home.
Through the hills, they will roam.

We try to ****, and make them extinct.
But there are places, that they retreat.
They take revenge, on our cattle and sheep.
There pack will ****, while we will sleep.

We take there land, and hope they'll go away.
But we begin a war, with nature on that day.
The wolf is free, and they always will be.
The most beautiful creature, I can see.

I can write about love, ***, or even money, power, and greed.

I can write about Jesus, and how the bible will plant a seed.

I can write about the wealthy, and I can even write about the poor.

I can write about the hungry, and the cold, who will beg of you at the door.

I can write about sadness, loneliness, and sometimes the pain.

I can write about depression and suicide, the sun and the rain.

I can write about all of these things, and so much more.

But there's something I can't write about, because I don't know how, to open that door.