and the father told the son
"you are more
than i could ever have become"

what does creativity
mean?
is it pulling words
out of the air
and forming them
into rhyming pairs
or is it taking
what's inside my mind
and carefully placing it
for the world
to see?

living.
it's an act
of rebellion

i don’t fight
to be remembered
I fight
so no one else is being forgotten
and they live
to be themselves

Maybe
instead of falling apart
we should try
tearing apart
this world
and set fire
to the ones
that burnt us

star glazed mountains
whisper in the dark
tell me all your secrets
guide me down this path
star glazed mountains
whisper in my ear
do not stop looking
the light you seek is near

I dream of you
sometimes
even though
I don't know
who you are.
My dream.
Are you out there
somewhere?

we wanted to grow up
oh how badly did we want
to grow up
to grow old
to be better.
if only someone had told us
that's not how it works.
we just grow old
things don't go better
and we'll just feel worse

I can hear
hearts beating
and souls whisper
but I can't bear
to hear
your name
spoken out loud.
Because you are
what my soul whispers
and my heart beats for

My art
is not about me
but the images I speak,
about the pictures
I paint of the sea
or the many night skies
that you see
about the people
I described
and the words
that I've combined
and soon you'll find
that the meaning behind
my art
is not about me
but what you seek

it's this fear
this kind of dread
that things are bound
to go wrong.
cause it's been
going good
for way too long.
surely
it's about time
I take the misery
that everyone else has been feeling
and make it mine

And they came to me
and asked
"Is this
what you imagined?"
And I said
"Yes.
But only in my nightmares"

step by step
getting closer
steadily
slowly
until there's another step
and stepping stone
in my way

do you see your face
between the lines?
do you recognise the person
i try to describe?
have you realised
that it’s all about you?
have you noticed
you’re bleeding through
my heart
onto the paper
into everything i write

he was a hero
a soldier
protector of lands
or so we thought
he was a villain
a tyrant
destroyer of all
who’d been planning his downfall
from the very start
determined to fool us
to make us a part
of his twisted plans
his torturous acts
and we let him.
and we complied.
we were the heroes
the soldiers
protectors of land
but we became
the villains
the tyrants
the bad guys instead.

The night's
only purpose
is thinking
But is thinking
the purpose
I serve?
They say
life is for living
but what
is living for?
When I look up
to the stars
looking up
to the endless sky
I realise
how small I am
and that
I need to fight
for the beauty
in this universe
against the
darkness in my
thoughts.
Creating is
what I can best
And that's
what is worth
living for

oh how i wish
to not be seen
neither by you
nor by me

have you ever tried it?
being yourself?
have you ever lived
with other people’s shame?
because they don’t understand
they don’t want to know
so they drag you
drag you
drag you
down.
but you cannot stop
being yourself
please.
it’s their shame
not ours

i have done everything
you ever wanted of me,
done terrible acts
(you promised to be heroic)
lost friends
(you turned into enemies)
and in the end
i have lost everything
i ever wanted.
i wonder:
have i really done enough
to follow my dreams
or was i happy
following yours?