Drowning in an abyss of sorrow
Thoughts only to be forgot tomorrow
Let me drown those evil words,
In absurd ideas that could start wars
I preach it not to feel the burn
Like heaven's hot and hell's not stern
My ice, my castles all in all
Don't try to go up expecting not to fall
Don't crown the king and say it's wrong
Just dance along with winter's song

Find that stillness,
And dance to the sound.
Those thoughts, emotions so profound
With strings to tie our hearts to stay,
With knots to bound our every hate
With love to numb the pain away,
With every move to make tomorrow today.
So let the silence finally create,
Something precious,
Or somewhere to escape.

They sent us here to feel the burn,
To pretend like it doesn't hurt.
To take our skies and crash them down.
To fill our lungs and make us drown.
But we'll be free that one is sure,
Out of our darkness we can find the will to be pure.
Like tulips we can become clean,
They can hurt us but they can't take our dreams.

Ever felt sharp needles like ice,
But nothing to blame when you open your eyes?
Like existence is nothing when the mind is awake,
Or when your mind is gone all your body can do is shake.
When essence communicates all that needs to be said,
The flowers won't wilt and the leaves won't turn brown, yellow, or red.

Ever felt like you're drowning?
Yet the air seems too dry to stay.
But you don't say anything,
Because no one cares enough to read this anyway.
My marks on paper,
Pen to the page.
To console my anger,
To empty out my rage.
Are all just vessels,
Do my poems sound the same?
Because words run together,
Just give it a new name.
When did I get this **** self conscious?
I'm trying to hide it
I'm trying to get better.
But all I see in front of me,
Are my streetlights getting dimmer.

It seems I'm less than I thought,
A red line again,
It seems I've already forgot.
That we're all human,
Does that make me not?
A line under my school khakis,
My razors seem to be back at use.
Put in closets to dust,
In Drawers without light,
But I'll know they're there,
It's like they whisper at night.

What if I practiced necromancy?
Talked to the dead?
Would they still try to tell me that it's all in my head?
To get me to hide it,
You don't know how I've bled.
How I've fought for my freedom,
All my thoughts stained in red.