Children are dying...
I'm kicking back, with nothing to complain about, yet complaining.
While *children are dying
I'm dancing
to my favourite song with my pals and sisters.

While they bleed because of the blisters
caused by the wood of their broken homes.
Unheard screams and groans
Getting ***** by strange misters.
Bombs and grenades fall like raindrops from the sky

BOOM BOOM BOOM! The soundtrack of their lives
An endless lullaby
And they cry
and cry.
But I can't hear them,
for the music in my room is too loud.


                                    Children are dying*.

Having races brings me back to running rainbows
Jumping over dogs and pancakes
Shadows stretching beyond computers
Is it my imagination, or did the grass run home?
We are empty aluminium shining in the snow
This is how we eat 1000 GB of soil and lyrics.
We are not,
yet we are
reaching out to grab the tables

Guns, Rifles, Bombs, and Knives
Have taken away countless lives,

but all those mighty weapons cannot compete
with the one weapon, the true hurtful defeat.

Words.

Sharper than any knife.
So hurtful, that they may cause one to intentionally end their life

Because the worst kind of death is not that within the grave,
the worst kind of death is dying while still being alive

When you pray during every suicide attempt that you wont survive.

That, is when you know that you are already dead.

And that....

is the worst kind of death.

Swimming in your sea,
and your waves keep moving me

I find myself on the shore of a country
am I now imprisoned or free?

I don't know.
All I know is-

I did not flee,
it was your spree,

It pushed everyone away, including me.

If you ever feel rejected by perfection,
know that perfection isn't even an invention.


Perfection only exists in the eyes of critics,
in the imagination of teenage girls,


in the harsh judgements of your surrounding,
and in the person you someday wish to become.

A bar of soap wrapped with candy and sugar?
Or an emerald diamond hidden in a nasty ******?

Can we truly see, or can we just look?
A marvellous story written on the pages of an old dusty book

A short chubby girl with guts and nerves
While she has long legs and perfect curves

Her blue eyes and long blonde hair cause obsessions
but her eyes are sore and she lost her hair during the countless chemo sessions

She steals their hearts, and gets what she prefers
While she prays the nights as cancer steals her's

Now did you find this a bit confusing?
Because the chubby girl maybe outside cruising

While she prays
Counting her last days

Which one is which?
Did they just switch?

Or did you switch them?
You forgot about the rose petals because you were too busy gripping the stem.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what if the beholder is blind?
The more we search inside, the more beauty we'll find.

And as for the two girls, it is not our job to know
because we cannot judge what does not show.