Where can I find 
the meaning of peace
when someone's dying every second
because of an empty plate 
and weapons that end a fate

Who can we blame
For the massacre that never ends
Where lives of innocence
treated like ants
Ignorance of what we don't know
Blinded by the media who always
puts on a show

Why is it that we rage 
when we have words
flowing from our minds, 
giving all the answers 
in a rough day

When will this end?
The earth's crying
"Please just **** me completely"
Viruses and disease
engulfs the poverty
But not the rich?
Are we really that blind to see
They preach justice but own the earth to attain power

How bad is the earth's wounds
as blood slowly drips
polluting the soil
creating trapped remains
buried deep in the ground,
never wanting to be found

Every cry of a new born child
Burnt, due to the one who
preached peace
But enslaving the innocence
Not able to savour the taste of the earth
Every mother bathe in blood
Crying in agony as the child dies
Every day is a war that everyone must fight to survive...

but why do they choose to fight, when they can choose to live in peace?

11/26/14

*-Adele ft. Erenn

Because I wanted to try a classic method,
I bought some wine.

As I foster my alcoholism,
Edgar Allan Poe
please hold my hand.

If I could rest every one of his burdens on my shoulders
I'd do it.
They're scarred and battered and broken
( just like him ),
but I am sure he would still call them beautiful-
or, I hope he does, at least,
so I can call him out on his hypocrisy.

Let it be known;
I breathe, not to be fixed by you,
but to find a way to help
put you back together
and I am not scared of your
wolves nor
your roar.

I'll be patiently awaiting this moment,
with my amour shed and my hammer steady,
and I swear I'll do it-
- gladly.

You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.