Time to let go.
Pain is all I know.

Walking knee deep in snow.
As the wind blows.

There's no turning back.
Nothing will stop him in his tracks.

The past is forever gone.
The man he sees in the mirror is forever gone.

He put a cloth around his face and put on a thick jacket to hide his face.
If she wont even bother to look at his face.

Why should he waste his time looking at a monsters face.
When she rejected him she killed the last bit of love he had inside.

The pain he felt cant be described.
The pain he felt cant be denied.

He always knew deep in his heart that love is unkind.
She is forgiven, but this heart will never love again.
©M.P.Jacobs

On earth, how to cleanse our soul
To make the cloth of reputation white
At most we can only achieve this goal
When filled the neighbors mind with lies

What we are, at most hidden
Will never let them see
We tricked our neighbor to believe in
On what we seem to be

Of every man who tell the world
That they’ve found the hills of truth
Can’t climb with them, my feet to their wisdom hurled
Simply I’ve learned a lot from my youth

Can we cast away the sins
On human claimed holy words
Or just we hide unto the book
To cover our shame on this world

I called out to you in the dead of night.
My eager heart plummeting
at the occasional creaking sound that came
from within our old battered down house.
Every sigh and moan,
an echo of the anguish the old house had once endured.
I understood the house’s pain and it accepted mine
The way a mother accepts her young.
The house was dying,
and so was I.
We both knew it
but still We cried out for you,
together,
one last time.
Frightened and forlorn as we were.
Like the last rose of winter,
holding on to its withering petals,
too afraid to let go,
But far too weak to hold on.
I sprawled out across the kitchen floor.
My punctured heart spilling out,
through the cracks between each slab
of generically stained linoleum
The house held me
"Close your eyes, "
it whispered.
I held them open
for as long as I could
I grit my teeth
and whispered back
"I’m sorry"

We're just soaring on this earth.
Without course, a floating asteroid,
with no worth, it's our planet of birth.
Of meaning, all there is, is void.
Always wandering to some north,
pretending life of merit is not devoid.

I'm not writing full of depression,
it's just the same old realisation.
Don't wanna die, just a bit whatever,
waiting for a change in this monotony.
Tired of waking up, wish I'd sleep forever
or that something would entertain me.