a new dawn sets the stage
a new age sets upon this day

it sings the songs of a melancholy metronome and no one knows yet
because the song hasn't even started

when will they stop listening to the sirens song, until their ears bleed

nothing right has ever been so wrong
and yet we keep singing
and we keep singing

because that's all we can do
to prove to ourselves we still have a voice.

the difference between a good life and a great life is the understanding that it is all meaningless,

life cannot have a meaning because it was not created with meaning or purpose,

even with the God that many believe in, what purpose do you think an all powerful being has to create lesser beings who worship him?

There is no purpose or order to the universe, and yet we still grasp those thinly veiled straws as if there were some hidden thread that connected them all, and when we pull all we get are nothing but empty lives and hollowed shells of happiness that we thought we were.

but when we look at these straws and back up we begin to realize we were picking straws from a hay bale, of which there are many surrounding us

We can either decide to keep picking straws from the infinite hay bales of the universe, or sit down on the soft green grass and realize,

that its all going to be okay because no one told you to pick straws from hay bales, no one told you to sit on the grass, no one told you not to.

and that's okay, because you are your own person, and the universe created without meaning or purpose cannot tell you otherwise, just as it cannot tell you what meaning or purpose you hold.

Amen.

a perfect life, a happy wife, and nothing could be wrong

can you separate someone from their past actions?

a single man,

a single time,

a time when there was no one else,

to run or hide from where we stand,

so we run and hide from the bullies.

but no more will we run and hide.

no more.

years of pain and anguish,

torture and rage,

silently waiting.

a perfect life, a happy wife, and everything went wrong.

all gone in an instant.

all gone.

can you separate a man from their past actions?

you would have done the same,

don't pretend like you're better than me

i finally got my revenge.

it's justified

he made me hurt

now i hurt him

i'm not the bully.

i'm not the bad guy.

he is.

he always was.

since day 1.

until now.

no, he still is.

so that's it.

blood on your hands and on the walls, you look up at the screaming face of your tormentor, tormented.

this is what you wanted.

no it's not.

yes it is.

no. it wasn't.

it's what you get. it's what he deserved.
no. it's what you deserve.

all these years you're still the weak one, still the feeble one, still the one in pain. why can't he just understand it?

walking up to his anguished face, he looks up and utters "why"

as if you knew any reason besides the hurt and pain.

i loved you, you think to yourself.

i loved you and you hurt me every day.

because you never loved me back.

and that's that.

the end.

for all of us.

because there is no end to the cycle of violence until those who live by the sword then die by it.

it's justified.

but can you separate a man from his current life?
can you separate a man from his past actions?
can you separate a man for what he will be instead of what he is?

some still believe you can't.

but what life is there without change.

ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we all fall down.

because there is no winner in this game.

we all lose in the end.

outside in the dark stands a lonely figure

he stalks and he waits, as he slowly withers

beneath his head lies no heart

what can we do to tell him apart?

the door bursts open and in he walks,

he withers, and waits, and slowly stalks.

as he goes up to find his prey,

she looks out to the night as if to say

scarecrow make him go away.

the tale of a hero vanquishing evil,
slaying the monsters around him,
defeating all his opponents.
the tale of a hero conquering his enemies

but what does it mean to be a hero?
how many lives must you save to be a hero?

100? 1000?

No, of course not.

It's only one.

You only need to save one life to be a hero,
and it's okay if that one life is yours.

the bells ring from within my head
nothing else to be heard but the conscious banging of the door

there is no escape, i thought to myself as i rested my head against my own reflection
shifting and warping between the realities that could have been

a doctor, a scientist, a leader, a father.

and when i look up at my reflection the only thing that stares back at me is me.

everyone surrounds me wanting to become part of me by telling me who i should become.

no one surrounds me supporting me to become part of the solution, instead of trying to fix my problems, they try to make me the factor.

the common denominator.

i looked at my own hand and back at the mirror and i screamed silently.

this is my life.

i control it.

and i puncture the skin that everyone wanted to steal.

then- and only then,

am i freed

why can't you ever love me like she can.
why can't you ever appreciate me like she can.
why can't you just be satisfied with me like she can.

why do you always criticize me.
why do you always ridicule me.
why are you so insistent that i'm wrong.

she doesn't tell me i'm wrong.
she doesn't make me feel ashamed.
she doesn't make me feel guilty.

she loves me.
so why can't you?

and the mirror just cries and says
why can't I?