How much further
You're really not sure
That you can go on
Alone in the world

Sealing your fate
In this day to day
Business as usual
Keeping your heart locked away

Before you go through
Doing all that you do
Here's a bit of truth
Someone loves you

There's no reason at all
To give up on hope
The one that loves you
Might not yet know

And like you they
Feel the same way
Waiting for you
To make their day

To tell the truth
What you're going through
You'll both get the news
That someone loves you

It's been a while since I had to write;
Words that may be lies; words that may be right;
It's been a while since I let it out,
Emotions not of joy and not of spite.

—

Lines,


red ink flow down his arms.
Depress the pain,
for the death of his brother,
had not simply cursed Cain.
Smiled when they call him deranged
An affidavit of sadness to rage.

Lines,


cut so deep, structured so fine.
It's a pain of a pure sort of nature,
A pure kind.
It's this way, or he goes away.
For good this time.

Lines,


pastel skin so sharp,
the colour red colours and warps.
Church bells toll for a funeral.
For one must accept the pain
to return and become sane.

Or they deny the lines.
Let it be for just one more moment.
Just own it.
The anger, the rage, the pain, the sorrow.
Soon, there won't be any feelings left to borrow.

It was an AR15 that the kid used.
A gun that, in this free world, men can indulge and abuse.
A boy who saw him load his gun,
the gunman saw and simply said run,
A word that made the child flee for his life,
just before waves of bullets came upon the school,
The kid looked on and asked himself
why is life so cruel.

How many more people have to die,
before its ****** metal, not tears, that your children cry.
This free world, rife with argument by silly politicians
Men that make decisions, without experience of the repercussions.
This gunman was not a delinquent, he was a child.
Born of your failed systems, born of your sick traditions.
A boy who without second thought, took up his assault rifle
and headed into war with the children that learned ambition with him,
emotion and sudden movement that made them all feel just that little bit stifled.

This free world is one with a core of rights,
A doubled edged dagger,
a topic of discussion that makes the average fat man want to fight.
‘Over my cold dead body’ he said.
LET ME HAVE MY GUN
Because whilst others use it for fun,
the protection I have outweighs the fact
that when a 19 year old comes to school,
all the other kids have to run.

It’s ridiculous, heck its thoroughly imbecilic,
How children have to be careful of the education system,
not because of a
nationwide test
but a,
nationwide threat
of grown men,
looking to prove their ego,
men that can’t go against the party line
that fail to realise that life is more important
than the next donation
than the dollar sign.

You want protection? That’s completely fine.
Just don’t use the bodies of your children
as meat shields and pretend everything’s fine.
Don’t say you’ll do something as if something will change
because nothing will change unless it does.
This free world is not filled with love but truly its filled with hate,
A bloodlust so dense, even children’s blood cannot sate it’s thirst.
Until it's more than just a child hurt, but a country with a bullet wound
Caused by people, who love guns so much but blame it on the loons.
Your pain, I cannot prove.

I'm sorry:
To the words I don't give justice to;
To the words painted meaningful

*But end up lackluster.

You are a star:
Shining bright in the darkness;

You are a star:
Your brilliance astounds me;

You are a star:
In this pitch-black room, you light me up;

You are a star:
*Out of my reach.

I’m sorry.
It is me.
But it’s not.
It’s paranoia.
It’s fear.
But it’s mine.

I’m scared I’m doing too much.
Too little.
Trying too hard.
Not enough.
Not giving you space.
Giving too much.

So I’ll stop.
I’ll let you decide.
Maybe I won’t be paranoid.
I probably will.
But if you don’t want me around
I can disappear.