Dream fast and don't describe a limit,
as we spin around this world of purity and wicked.

Is poetry the healing avenue you so desperately must cross, to ignite the rocket fuel inside us...and for once...see past the gloss?

Move past the greed of materialistic comfort,
outrun the inexhaustive shadows that can only bring suffers.

Escape your facade of reality which is your own construction,
and turn your pain into your own harmoniously beautiful art production.

Once you see that you are not alone, as the pain is happening globally,
you will finally ingest and release the power of poetry.

My ambition is withering.
Cheers to the day when the pain ceases simmering.

My senses numbed and dull,
climbing into a mad state of power topped with energy, no longer beautiful.

My exterior is only a mask to the mayhem brewing and invading, as my interior is instantly stripped of all innocent glimmering.

The smallest of spark will ignite my flame,
a new pain that will bring an actual feeling, considering.

The flint and rock hit, as the heat rises and begins blistering.

Calmness is all I feel in this heated moment of usual irrationality,
a bliss peace peels open my eyelids to a simpler reality.

No longer do I pace back and forth alone,
booming shouts of unrelenting and steady voice high, never below.

I welcome the engage of the rage and only shiver as comfort is dissipating from the beautifully illuminated stage.

Just as sudden as it did begin, the pain begins withering and halts to a peaceful end.