there is no room for light,
yet we try and give in some might,
shallow hearts try and put up a fight,
as if we have the right,
to complain about the night,
we were born;
like the thunder in the storm,
or a crazy monster swarm,
trying to follow the norm,
and keep our insides warm,
or avoid the scorn,
that falls from somebody's lips;
like a sail on sunken ships,
useless as burnt scripts,
or the boys that chase your hips,
trying to get the grips,
of your lady brains;
jumping on run down trains,
to rid us of the pains,
that are tied to us like chains,
or tear apart our veins,
dark and forgotten lanes,
in the streets of the town;
an emotionless clown,
a pretty girl about to drown,
a ****** ghost in a gown,
or a queen without a crown.