Time is escaping

As it is but shaping

The more we chase after it the further I suspect

We soon realize, in chasing what we despise, we merely double the effect

Of its running away,

Rather than seizing the day,

By losing the precious amount of time

That we oh so carefully left behind

Is there anyway I could merely fall asleep and just dream... dream..

Dream away from the scars and fights

Fights and scars of all that which oppresses me and depresses me, Reality is no necessity of mine

I shall stick to the depths of my mind

And whatever I may find

I'll hold it, I'll mold it, till I can call it mine.


For what hath reality ever hold for me

Nothing, nothing but pain, misery, and atrocity

Free, I shall be

With the birds of my dreams

For it seems

That the birds that fly in reality

Are trapped and caged hopelessly

By this omnipresent hatred

leave this Earth as it is, old and decrepit


I dare not die

'T'is not death

For I have lived and merely decide

'Tis those that live, that hath given up their breath

I lie awake ready for the ride

The ride that may take me to a new height

Oh sweet cyanide... I sleep again, tonight

Once upon a twilight tingle, under the moonlit stars' twinkle

Such a foul fowl, 'tis only a foul owl

"What brings you here on this most auspacious night of nights?" I asked

The task it brought, I knew not, I merely cowered, as it did growl

I, with my guitar in hand, hastely jumped upon the warm sand, tipping, and tripping upon my towel,


As the Owl, with it's luminous eyes, began to tread the now seemingly still and chilled soil,

The ocean's roar slowly died down

t'was not the only sound that began to silence itself

even the pestilent winds around us fell idle to the ground

My reverberating heartbeat now the only audible sound


Fear finally finding sanctum in thoughts of logic

Think my man, think strategic, for this is what you now can do

Afright, now simple curiousity

No necessity was it, t'was a simple question i began to skew,

"what is your name, you obnoxious creature you?"

The now appearing invisible predator corraled the picture on the back of my guitar and flew, cawwing merely once calmly "Who are you?"

Empty ice cream cartons and salty eyes

All noise, and pestilence slowly dies

She feels the pain

Battles not fought for gain

Battles still fought nonetheless

The cause slowly begining to digress

For the purpose is not strong enough to make past

The battle, alas

Must it always be the female

Towards which leans the scale

of destout

eyes following their momentary drought

If only the stains on his cheek

Were prominent enough for her to see

Every time she came near

He'd wish she'd see his single tear

As he arose from the whirlwind of ash, he wondered what it was that

had actually happened. The last thing he remembered was that he had

fallen off the edge of the frail olive branch, everything covered in

flames. As he came plumeting down, he was corraled out of the air by a

dove. This dove, with her lush, white feathers glistening above the fire

that had engulfed the land, had brought him to her olive branch, but

much like his own olive branch, hers too began to split, and combust. It

was as though everything that he touched died. He despised it. The

dove comforted him, telling him, that they merely havn't found their

olive branch. "It's not necessary to be born into the olive branch to

which you belong." said she. so they searched on and on. To this day,

they search. He had found half of himself, the day the dove came from

above, but alas, he has yet to find the other half. For she is Immortal

Dove, and he only a mere idea, however every idea may perhaps have

the potential to become immortal, depending entirely upon what it is

nurtured with, and the perspective behind it.

There were many bots in the world

Only two models, one boy and one girl

All one in the same

So why have such a mass

Treading upon this broken glass

a path, a broken path

leading no where

breathing paid for air

bought out society

Are we too not one in the same

Why give a separate name

When the functionality remains conformed

Ah but there was one, one malformed


T'was one mistake

For heaven's sake

Such a mistake



This bot could feel

Why make such a big deal

He doesn't belong

He is not one of us

They all made a fuss


little did they know

his ways being followed

the narrow path

of broken glass

only this one with a destination


D3 was the name this infamous bot was given

this was the very bot by which V11 was driven


V11 too had a malfunction

feeling unsynthetically attracted to D3

she felt as though he was all her receptors could receive


They soon came for the two

D3 knew not what to do

his brown light reflection recievers

widened in fear

his auburn wires upon the bottom of his chin

spiked down, reciprocated grin

his black dome covering, waving in the misty wind


She took all blame

to society, 'twas a mere game

he failed to understand why

someone would throw their lives away; die

for someone else

there is no logical gain

yet he felt what he described as the undefined word; pain


As the society rejoiced, D3 depressingly watched

his eyes steadily locked

waiting for their portrayal of relief

but to his grief

they were dissatisfied

"He is still out there, anti-conforming others"

D3 than shuttered

For, the poor mistake of a bot caught wind

He was up against fate, there was no way he could win

Feeling the pain that he was causing

He slowly began to shake

He shed a tear, began to shed and break

for there was nothing for him to shed to

his human soul now free from his metal extrerior

the society began to feel inferior

his metal remains... let us speak not

the society... they remembered that they feel not