It bothers me that sand can hold my weight.
Sand is tiny.
Each grain is insignificant.
Yet it somehow finds billions of other tiny, insignificant grains just like it.
And they can do things I can not.
It makes me feel jealous, and even more insignificant than the sand.
I hate the sand.
So does the water.
That's why it continues to drown it.
It doesn't work, but it keeps trying.
Someone needs to tell the water that it can't drown the sand.
Someone needs to tell me that I can't drown the sand.
Someone needs to tell the sand that it can't walk on water.
Someone needs to tell me that I can't walk on water.

He writes like he is touching his words piece by piece...
Hurting this way everything near him...
With Blood Red ink...
And for the ones he loves and the ones he hates...
Always the same technique...
White and red,
pure White and scarlet red...
But in the end he met someone...
Only then he learned to use the colours...
Everything other than white and red.

He smashed his knuckles
into the bedroom mirror
screaming,
his voice echoing
out into the oblivion
he hoped to conquer

He was held hostage
but he couldn't find the ropes
that tied him down
so he shattered everything else

I watched
fear
like a jolt of high voltage
Knowing I would have to hold
the vision
of the ****** shards
in silent indignation

I can't find any artistry in this
I can't find it poetic
and there is only violence
no beautifully tragic dimension

Forgetting is not easy
It will never be easy,
but I know.

Take this, hurry
this is
what I have saved
for so so long
please take it
from me