The clock ticks in tandem with the light hum of the mornings breeze.
Its peaceful melody a stark contrast to the crimson soaked greens of the field.
The weight of one's world can only be bared for so long.
And so, his knees crash into the dirt, sweat gathering on his brow and tears streaming down his face.
Open fields and open wounds. Dead people and dead weight.
This checker board reality that has been playing out for nine long years.
Slowly he feels it, the sun peaks over the mountains, beams of radiant light streaming in the air.
A worn page slowly turned to the end of a chapter, only to find blank parchment.
His armor weighs heavy on tired shoulders,
and he has become thirsty for the innocence that once flowed from him so excessively
When his hands join him collapsed and kneeling,
air fills lungs that kept stale breaths close to heart, a repetitive routine, safe and normal.
The chapter closes and with it a blood stained sword is wrenched from the body it had made its home.
Droplets of red turn black with the sliding pressure of a ballpoint pen carving the first words on a fresh page.

"I have come far. From a child I have been forged in the flames of my mind, wicked and stinging, the pain of days gone by whipped and chiseled the rough edges that have carried me this far. This is my story, dear reader, like any other I have faced the world the best I can and I have faced my demons, but most of all I have faced myself. The dark thoughts behind fiery eyes that have told me "no" and I shouted "yes!".
"This is my story, the tale of a man who was still a boy. Of great treasure stolen and new treasure regained, worth more than the cold gold coin, a currency infinite in reward for it is the strength that carries me forward. The lessons learned ink my skin with a map to my treasure that I have learned to cherish, for X marks my heart!"

The sun risen over the mountains, blazing and hot, shimmering off dulled and scuffed armor.
Unbuckling piece by piece, the metal falls from him, the burdens of the past settling into the warming grass.
Shield and sword in hand, like the sun, he too rises.
The haunting past becomes the dewy fog at his feet, experiences worthy of memory at his back,
he takes the next step.

the sea's a show that gawks at the moon
what a lovely seat ive acquired this afternoon
a balet of this display deserves some show of gratitude
I think I, the moon will chose to embrace you
ill enjoy the feeling of falling into your mass
no matter the reprecussions
ive had enough of the cast
id rather be dead
than floating around
i the moon
chose to be with the ground

Wasting space, I'm sick to my stomach.  The greater the demand, the lesser my will.  Try to tell me what to feel -I've already felt it.  The struggle within has made me give in and there is NO answers.  I drag myself up - for what?  I'm not sure of.  I hear the screeching voices wanting things. I attempt to teach the things I've never learned.  I want to cry but there is no time.  Forcing a smile, I give what I don't have and another day goes by.  Helplessness feeding self-hatred.  Dying slowly and hoping for salvation.  Wanting to scream but no sound will escape me.  My youth curdling like sour cream and time no longer being be a friend of mine.  Somewhere in the depths of my soul there is a hope, of what - I don't know.  I cling to it to face the day as my fingers feel it slip away.

To ask for love would not be true.

Love is given freely, a soul seeking not its own.

A passionate pursuit that's never-ending.

The in-born desire to bask in the presence of another.

The thirst of more until you heart feels it might burst.

To delight in every little mystery unveiled.

To give without expectations.

To forgive the imperfections.
To question your self-seeking intentions.
To right the wrongs of your own inventions.

Love is to wait with enduring patience.

Love sees the potential and brings forth the superlative.

It is shelter from the cruelties of life.

It takes pleasure in honoring those it protects.

Love is time and it warms with affection.

It yearns only to be returned.

Its light exposes the truth of your very existence.

It conceives.
It breathes.
It believes.

Love rejoices in the little things, like a smile.

It empathizes with your painful circumstances.

It carries you when you've lost your strength.

It brings forth courage when there would otherwise be none.

It extends into far reaching places.

It changes even the hardest of situations.

Love fights for what is righteous.

True Love is not overrated.
Should not be underestimated.
Makes simple what is complicated.

Inspired by the triumphs of others.

Treasures its beloved far beyond earthly possessions.

It's grateful for opportunities it is given.

Its nature is pure and good.

It is a gift that was meant to be shared.

The world would be uninhabitable without it.

Immeasurable is its essence.