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Oct 2014
Confusion in each thought, for so many bleed together
That the thought of such confusion nearly ceases thought entire
Fusion I have sought, but together, they are severed
What is wrought is no illusion...clearly pieces that inquire
Is there rhyme within unreason?
Is there sense in the insane?
Haphazard contemplations in the whereing of each why
The whatting of each who when every when commits its treason
Come and go, too quick or slow, it's sure to quickly come again
Slowly bleeding 'midst the feeding of ideas to the senses
In a sense, and in defense, I've no idea what to say
For the words have all been heard in every way and all pretenses
No matter painted pictures, all will see it their own way
It makes much sense to me, for I live the grand confusion
That so plays upon the mental tongue with which my fingers speak
The order in disorder seems to be the quest of each intrusion
Finding I am strong, even when I feel I'm weak

What now have I to do with thou?
What then will we surmise?
As it were, has it occurred to us
To claim our ****** prize?
Disallow right here and now
That this will lead to our demise
Endure the curse that murders us
Defeating all devised

Legions of sparrows have shadowed my halls
The feathered winds doth shudder my soul
For Good and Evil have come to call
A fight to my death for each shard of the whole
Each dream and each nightmare tattooing confliction
Every caw a new scar of insane
An act of revenge, or an act of contrition
It is, in the end, merely trying in vain

Long seeking for something with much nothing found
I've reached to the heavens from far 'neath the ground
Darkness and light have both poisoned my soul
Both seek to gain the full grip of control

Need there be reason for Death to preside?
For surely, he wins in the end of all ends
Yet, looming hereafter, his presence confides
That there's life in the lifeless for which to defend
A prayer in each lie and a sin in each sainting
Cannot rend the veil of such painted on smiles
For the mask cannot hide what defies contemplating
In a sense, there's no defense against the waiting of a while

Silence constructing and muffling sound
Both something and nothing in everything found
Broken and beautiful wings now unfold
I rise with the sparrows in a gale uncontrolled

No need to get emotional
For rise above the storm we shall
Dividing the devotional
The notion will prevail
With calloused hull and tattered sail
Traversing the irrationale
To reach the unapproachable
Defining each detail
As seas embrace and batter shores
The winds caress and shatter ties
Carrying the ashes
To the places thoughts collide
Becoming snow upon the lore
As seasons change before my eyes
The moment that now passes
Giving hope no place to hide

In no sense does it make sense to me
Despite how things remain the same
However hopeless I may be
I find that much more hope to claim
In no sense, and in no pretense
Can I explain the war within
There is no greater evidence
Than falling but to rise again
Diary of the Damned
Written by
Diary of the Damned  Stanford, Kentucky
(Stanford, Kentucky)   
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