Are you trapped with in
a disillusioned box made
up of bones and rusted
wires?
  
              We made our homes in
                  the land of the brave.

Death called us out
to the desert far east
and planted our souls
in our guns.
          
              We lived at the valley
                in the shadow of death.

                                She's singing...
                                ... You must go to her

Do you see her
   hallowed out eyes,
Screaming for attention
   along the lines of
Touch and Sight.

                        Feelings become numb.

Her dying heart
   ceases to beat
As a cold lifeless corps
   lies within a box,
Unmoving and Unwanted.

                        She attends her own funeral.

There lies no tear
   among the cheeks
Of the selfish people
   who let her fall.
Ignorant and Selfish.

                          She's alive...
                          She's dead.
                The bomb goes off...
                They're all alive...
                                            ... They're all dead.

The mind clicks
      an endless sea
A rush of warmth
      a reflecting razor
She lies alone
      waves crash against sand
The bomb ticks
      a heart still beating
A rush of fire
      she lies there bleeding
      She lays within herself
      holding out a hand.
                      Take it while you can.

LIFE:

The sun rises upon the eastern shore
Revealing your arms around me, yet more.
I hope living these joyous days with you
Will be a joyous one, we know it's true.




DEATH:

The lunar light upon the western sands
Follows the shadows of an unknown man.
A few more steps and the scorpion's sting,
Death can be such a terrible thing.

Here I sit,
making you smile,
making you laugh.
When I speak,
you feel it's right,
You feel it's good.
So to ask you,
what am I?
I am a lie.

Here I sit,
bringing tears to your eyes,
running down your face.
When I speak,
you feel your heart break,
you feel so empty.
So to ask you,
what am I?
I am the truth.

Here I sit,
laughing at jokes,
agreeing with everything.
When I speak,
we smile and always agree
on everything.
So to ask you,
what am I?
I'm a fake.

Here I am,
smiling at your comforts,
crying with your distractions.
When I speak,
a few listen,
and some will choose to ignore.
So to ask you,
who am I?
I am me.

Death walked among us
in the deserted wasteland
that we further call our
unwanted, torn up home.
Our sisters, our brothers,
and parents all dead.
The knife is planted in
your hands, stained.
Tears of vengeance and hate
flow down your stone
cold face into the
hole that your heart
has left unwanted.
This isn't your life,
this is a life of
bitterness and broken
hearts controlled by
the one and only past.
Move on unloved child.
He is no longer bearing
a soul of life, but one
of black acid that slowly
kills his common sense.
Let go unnoticed heart,
love will leave bitter
stains that will never
leave your mind at ease.
Screaming when humanity
is at it's loss, seeping
out our pores into
a dark, unknown room.
Death paced that room,
gloating in our horror.
Laugh little angel why
time can still tick
and you can watch
all the world suffer.
In this realistic man
made world, optimism
can't shine the dimmest
light amongst all the
pessimism of the ******.
The depth of the
mind cannot catch it.
So we sit here
and think, and we drink,
we smoke, and we slice
out our scars and place
our pain within them.
Take your little razorblades,
and take out your lighter.
Burn your scars into an
unwanted past stupidity.
Cut open and cease the day.
Is this what you truly
made the final decision on?
This is what you have made
life out to be for you and me.

my heart is safe                  so why is it that                  though, it feels like
in this hand made             the box feels so                    the acid ate away
box that i have                   empty on the inside.           what was left of
crafted myself.                   broken hearts.                      my shattered heart.


within this time                                                                you can picture it's
you read on into                                                               emptiness, going on
a mystery of my                                                               into an empty abyss
bitter heart.                                                                        I call my empty box.


at one time, there                                                             at one time, it used
lay a shattered heart                                                        to be whole and glowed
in a blood stained,                                                            a radiant light, and was
hand made box.                                                                held in a lover's hand.


but days like those             a soul with no heart.            here within my empty box,
no longer exist                    a soul with no love.             stained with blood galore,
in my own pessimistic      a soul without light.             a heart once beat, and a
days of empty shame.       a soul that will shatter.         soul had once been.