It cries, it dies, it ***** with me
I think too much, think too little
Does too much, does too little,
Feels less human, feels more like living

Speed it wants where life is too slow,
Black as the darkest night,
White as the softest snow
Calmness it likes,
Disaster it likes more
Hating itself and loving others
Needs their thoughts but yearning its own

Hard as stone
But falter like a new born bird,
In a rain of hell, fire of broken ash
Covered gray...

It does like hearts
It wants heart,
and maybe someday,
I will : feel, be happy, be content an be

Alive.