I want something that I cannot have. I cannot have it because I don't truly know what it is. I've seen it polished and propped as if it were on display and I've heard the stories of how much time and effort it took to make it look as such. But I want it. I want love. I want the idea of it at least.
I want the fights brought about by events simpler and less important than the time we wasted to have them. I want to be pained by the sight of her pain and know that the feeling of knives piercing my chest when I see her cry is there because I would literally drive them there myself if only to prevent her tears.
I want our laughs to intertwine over the smallest things and our conversations to stretch our minds over the biggest. I want to see you sleep at night and I'll smile because I know that you're finally at peace. And I want you to smile when you wake up because you know that I'm fighting to make your reality better than your dreams.
I want love. I want romantic love, I want crazy love. I want passion. I want to pick you up in my arms and in that brief present get lost in your presence. I want to be in you when I am in you and have you wish that I would stay forever. I want to be in your heart and mind, and I want our love to be torturous and blind.
I just want love. I want the idea of it at least.

You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.

I'm tired no, not that kind of tired
Where it can simply cured by sleep
I'm tired of all the things
That put me through and through
I'm tired of all the times
Where I've almost shed a tear
I'm tired of all the friends
That used me like my feelings never existed
I'm tired of all the life
That makes me suffer days and nights

Every shout  a drop of blood squirting from the twisted veins
the destiny’s road opens to another quite unknown corner
Every shout stifled by heartbeat  of silence holds a desire to cut
the uneaten loaf of heart their ears are deaf,  a head of stone
a body of wood, fingers of clay that have forgotten how to clasp a flower
or rise a hand in protest, music that has become air settles down at the navel of midnight
it’s an angel singing to closed windows and doors only the leaves and grasses of
the earth responds with daybreak the lips the nose, the hands the limbs the eyes
awakened  the air lost its music the angel is only a love disowned
by both the lover and the beloved

She wanders guided by her lost soul.
She spills arts coming from her pure heart;
She writes words no one can understand,
yet she speaks it like it was kept in her mind
for so long, just waiting for someone to find it.
She is a masterpiece of her own,
but she has a heart of stone.

I appreciate simplicity, the mediocrity
of being absorbed in my thoughts.
It's who I am, it's all I know.
Do not deem me ill because  you have never sat down and
explored the dynamics and complexities
of your being because we are clearly not on the same mental or spiritual calibre.

I want my words to be beautiful. Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things, Find the magic in them,
and put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.
I want to have a way with words.  I want every poem of mine
to become a masterpiece. Just like yours.
I am not broken. But you are. You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colours brighter. It makes the value of feelings climb higher.
Sometimes I wonder if I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate like yours.
Sometimes I wonder, if it will be truly worth it in the end.
I wonder what it will be like, to cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.
Just like you I imagine that you raise the blade slice your feelings open
and write your masterpiece in red.

A fragile hope we may really speak
has just been shattered into pieces
A fragile hope you will stop my bleed
is still alive and somehow increases

God, how did I fell and why so hard?
Why your voice is now my favorite song
Why when you're near I act like a ******
Why all I want is to accompany along

I know what you think and how you feel
So why the fragile false hope still exists
I know that "us" remains a dream unreal
But the hope still fills my head with mist

And nobody knows how much it hurts
To watch never happening wonderful plots
And it tortures you slowly or even worse
It dig holes in you like the one from shots

So my only salvation is getting it killed
I'm so tired of it so help me to stop it
Destroy the illusory castles I have build
because I'm unable to destroy it

It's hard to write a poem
When there's nothing going on
It's hard to think of what to say
When you've given most of it away

As poets we never scratch the surface
We delve within, disclose our deepest sin
We crave our pain, declare it's for our art
Yet more often than not have no idea where to start

But start we do and start we must
A deep desire in all of us
To spill out on the written page
What little bit we have tried to save

Ink now is the poets blood
Fragments of self pour from within
Silence is our safety net
To stop us from bleeding out

Although it's hard to write a poem
With nothing going on
We still find words to form a verse
From deep within our marrow bone

You are the sweetest of my torments.
You're the tangible torture of citrus
The bite followed by the ****
Fresh and unbearable in the same instance

You're the lemon zest scent;
You're the juice in the cut
As the knife cuts my thumb;
The sweetness meeting the wild coppery tang
of blood in my mouth.

You're in the twist in my chest
that exists somewhere between my heart and my stomach
both organs being wrenched apart...
When I see you and remember that we haven't spoken in months.

I know that I am not one of the pages of your book
or the words in your poem
but I will tirelessly watch over you from every nook.
I know I am not the portrait you are painting
or the inspiration behind your masterpieces
but in my heart, it is your name I am engraving.
I know I am not the reason for your smiles
or the tickles of your laughter
but for you, I would walk a thousand miles.
I know I am not your shining star
or the light in your life
but till forever is through, I'll admire you from afar.
I know I am not the one your heart beats for
or the one you desire
but my heart says as long as it brings you happiness,
it wants nothing more.
I know I am your never
but you will forever be my always...

You're that awkward “hi” exchanged by strangers who
thought they both knew each other but were clearly mistaken for another.
You're the bruise that turns blue when I accidentally bump my leg
on the corner of the bed. You're the scar that I never knew I had.
You're the bittersweet taste in my mouth every morning.
You're the last thought lingering in my head before slumber takes me
and you're the vagueness that haunts me in my dreams.
You're the scalding hot shower in a cold freezing morning.
You're the boiling tea that numbs my tongue for the rest of the day.
You're the obsession I will never learn to let go of.
You're that person I will never get to call mine.
You're the one that got away.

I have lost all. What you ask ?
I don't know
maybe it is my personality
or my lack of one. Maybe it's my lack of originality
Or I'm just alone
All I know is I have lost
Lost a great many things my smile is gone
I look like a hopeless being
My will is no longer strong
I see shadows following me
Depression is my daily bread I’m mot lying believe me
Sometimes I wonder why am not dead.

Have you ever asked yourself like why you so lonely?   Or empty?
that maybe you give too much of your essence to people and never leave any of you for yourself
I know I do and like that's maybe why I get so attached to books
because in them, I find myself  I need to change, because things shouldn't be this way
but it's hard sometimes you know, when most days you don't leave the house because you feel unworthy of the space you take up
so you'd much rather disintegrate into soil because you've become all too familiar with people stepping over you and admiring the outcome of your beauty but never the roots of your pain
I spend so much effort watering people in order for them to grow and hardly get enough sun shine to feed my own soul   because I don't know how to do anything else but care for everyone but myself

Darkness pervades; an empty whole.
Tears fill this broken bowl.
The nectar too salty to quench the thirst
a brutal reminder of what came first

A Blackness, a Void. God illuminated into being.
Beauty, Belief, Faith - a false way of Seeing.
The futile attempts to make the hole whole,
but it's Loneliness that resides in our Soul.

In every being sprung into existence
the Romantic effort of Man's resistance
is Love, hailed as the Cure.
But ask yourself, "Are you sure?"

At a life with Loneliness by our side
Love's importance becomes amplified.
But Love is just a wishful lie
it is Loneliness that embraces us as we die

She isn’t physically quick or agile.
She disappears in libraries.
She has been known to dissolve into the physical pages of books.
She is good at tucking herself into the stacks and retreating to reading nooks.
She blends in at coffee shops where her voice can be drowned out by the grinding and the steaming.
She can become indistinguishable in the dark of theatres, in the quiet shuffle of art galleries, the finger-snapping of poetry readings.
She is indistinct and adept at hiding in plain sight.

They **** a body and go to prison
Behind the bars with time they have to pay
A life that’s deadened with a life exchanged
So law and justice see the light of day

But tell me what of a person who killed a heart
Who murdered love and glibly walked on
Incarceration is not his reward
The weight of guilt to bear, he does deny

A greater crime than this is yet to be
To **** a heart and form the living dead
Someone who walks and talks but is not real
Who shoots away the day and weeps in bed

Imprisoned he should be to now walk free
A murdered heart  must be a greater crime!

Look into her eyes
and tell me what you see
do you see a reckless girl
or someone depressed at 15?

Do you dare see the tears
that spread across her skin?
Do you see all her losses
or the very few she wins?

If you dare to touch her hand
will you feel her softness
or will you feel the calluses
from burns and feeling-less?

Do you see unflawed youth
or do you see a broken child?
Do you see all her pain
or do you see her just as wild?

Can you tell she’s screaming
out for help she needs?
Or is she just the silence of
the whistling wind without heed?

Look into these eyes
and peer into her soul
tell me what do you see
is she broken or is she whole?

Simple rhymes using words
thoughts from my mind
deleterious flow so be careful when you dive
my words having you committing suicide in a sea of catastrophe
Your girl is possessive but I have her in my possession like an apostrophe
its really the small things that lead to the big picture
I was made in God’s image so I guess he can write too...go figure
a lot of people don't believe in what they cannot see
you can't see oxygen but you believe you can breathe.

Three hour voyage
To our destination
An exploration
Of my vast nation
Brings a new sense of life
To my broad mind

The road seems endless
My heart has no rest
As the hope of arriving
Suits its best
It is narrow

My eyes are heavy
But they cannot stay shut
They stay wide open
Against my will
And **** my sight
As they fade
Into the never ending sky

The lake’s waves
Fill my ears with a subtle bliss
Calmness corners me
As I forget
About the war with my eyes and my worries now set aside.

Hear me
As my silence curses thee
Fear me
As the non-existent sword shields me
Be near me
As an invisible force tries to repel
The hell
Of life’s uncertainties
And mystery
The wishes within me
Bleed, as none can be satisfied
As they hide
To release my thoughts
Please me
Unseen jewels be near me
See me
As distracted eyes are averted
Need me
Even when all seems fine
That line
That draws my thoughts
In frozen time
When no sound waves
Shall reach an ear
Slow motion
In course of fear
For the unknown notion
Behind those ears
That can’t hear
And those eyes
Blind in sight
And naïve
To a clear definition
That shows the translation
Of my thoughts.

My brain aching
My heart breaking
As the news hits my ears
And my eyes open wide with terror
My mouth is oppressed
By the sense
That prevents
Me from saying the wrong thing.

Blink and the image is seen
Coursing through my imagination
As the tension
Rises in my bones

It’s like a thorn stings when touched
Blood would gush
Out of the struck vein

Then the fear of the unknown
Settles in
And brings
A fearful thought to my heart without ease

Speak or let nothing be done
As the worst
Is yet to come

Silence is her loudest cry,
although her eyes seem to be dry,
what she’s trying to imply,
is that no one sees the burning red eye.
hidden beneath a shining smile,
leaving the room in amazing style,
is a girl in single file,
walking alone the next one hundred miles.
when the girl looks up to the stars.
all she sees is a million prison bars,
tapped and enclosed and no one knows,
the girl being swallowed up by fears.
behind a smile is a broken girl,
trying to fight this horrid world,
her emotions soon begin to swirl,
breaking another broken girl.

Saying goodbye to someone you love
is like reading the final page of an amazing book.
As the last chapter ends you begin to notice
just how beautiful and perfect the plot always was.  
You appreciate the joy and even the pain
as you read and thumb through every page.
Finally understanding the moral of the story,
you realize you've reached the end of this journey.
Although the last sentence is the most difficult to read
another great book awaits once you turn the final page.
Eventually you may stumble upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return to the book you left behind.
You may just discover once all is said and done
that this particular book was your favorite story
All along.

Whatever happened to the moments we lived for
the moments we lived from?
electrifying lives, currents of passion
high voltage that knew no resistance
what do I have to do  to feel the surge to feel the spark
to feel alive again?
is it in the tone is it in the songs
do the muses hold it in the walls
is it inside of me
searching for the switch
to send me back to passion
to make me feel charged again
to make me feel in charge again

Clouded judgement, biased opinions
based off stereotypes and ancient value
your own experience from perhaps too many years
it all makes sense but you can't lay it down on me.
Always wanting what is best, never fully healing past
what happened in your world which was catastrophic
but at some point we all come to the realization to move on
if we are strong, now I know why I can never seem to reach you.
Always seeming to gather thoughts and emotions reports and reviews
of everything from other people, having to master knowing what they think
before making up your mind so you aren't even really yourself
which is part of why you can't seem to reach me.
After all this time, nights of crying and asking why I have so much pain
can all this anger find its place, having no inclination as to where it all has come from
not personally experiencing what some may end up calling the textbook definition of
depression, post traumatic stress ,anxiety, attention deficit hyper whatever
but yet all at once aggravatingly confusing , constantly asking question after question
knowing they ultimately came from your inabilities, getting over every of my problems
simply because I was strong enough ,ironically in part because of you
but I think with those higher standards that could have been set by either one of us
the anger of you not fulfilling that is your fault the life you lead is your choice mine is mine.

Sometimes I write words that I think are perfect and mighty
but when I read your words, they ******* me,they make me feel like a nonsense trying to make sense they make me Wonder, why should I call  me a poet
With words that don't rhyme or flow
But again I believe that this words are perfect and mighty
they gave me hope
I find peace whenever I write them
I float like a feather and forget my permanent scars
with these words I feel like a Knight and a hero.

I woke up this morning, and realized that no one will ever understand me...
No one will ever get the fact that I hate my life with a passion so complex,
That your mind doesn't even have the capability to comprehend it...
A passion so deep that I might just be willing to end it all...
But I'm scared.
I want to prove to all the people that never cared, that maybe,
Just maybe,
I can do something with my life.
Honestly, I never even thought that I would make it this far...
On the outside I am smiling, you think everything's okay.
On the inside I am dying,
it's the price I've learned to pay...

I’m so tired of telling people that I’m fine when I’m clearly not
So fed up with telling people that I’m tired or feel sick
I know they see right through my lies
But they don’t try to push me
I know it’s because they really don’t want to know my problems
When they have issues of their own
And even if they did ever push me to tell them
I don’t know how I would tell them how I feel
They might understand but I couldn’t ever explain it
How depressed I am
How angry and confused I am
How my constant need to seem happy and okay
Leaves me completely drained at the end of the day
And how I have to leave the light on in my room at night
Because I’m scared of everything
How my pillow is soaking sometimes when I go to sleep
How my eyes are red and puffy from crying
My hand stiff from writing poems to try and relieve some of the ache in my heart
I just want to go to sleep and never wake up
Just forever linger in the dream realm
Where anything you can imagine can happen
And the imagination is so much better than reality
I’m so tired I just want to go to sleep
And never wake up.

Have you ever wandered how it is like to feel like a stranger?
Like a fish out of water
Like a teardrop in loud laughter
Like love in the heart of a hater

Have you ever wandered how it is like to feel lost?
Like a drop in the ocean
Like a needle in a haystack
Lost…that you don’t know white from black
Like walking straight in a destination
When you know there is no way to go back


Have you ever wandered how it is like to feel so confused?
That you don’t know
When you’re treated nicely
And when you are abused
Have you ever felt so low?
And you don’t know what to do where to go
When you see all the doors around you are locked and closed

Have you ever wandered how it is like to be in non-stop stress?
When you never feel so sure about something you always have to guess
When you feel like crying out loud
And spit that burden of these hard feelings inside you
However, you have to keep and suppress these feelings
Although you are in the greatest need of a gentle caress

Has anyone felt pain like this before?
Because that’s what I really feel , or maybe even more.

Patterned obsessions have ruled my life,
presented as shadows or dreams that never die.
But are never fulfilled.
The healing eludes me, I sit here,
my wounds still fresh, my heart still broken,
lost in this life,
bored to the brink of insanity.
Faith so fleeting, comes and goes,
what have I got to believe in anyway?
the promise of things I have not seen,
my life remains this hell,
despite my prayers, and I have
given up inside.
I am surrounded by people who love me,
but can't know my soul, my fear, my pain,
which everyday haunts me, encasing me with
doubt and distrust and despair.
It is a decayed elegance that I now embrace,
I hold my head up high, look you in the eye,
but my soul wilts more every day, what you see is
not what you get.
Mutilated and desiccated,
as my soul dies a little more every minute

My mother always told me "child, don't you cry over spilled milk",
but no one ever said anything about spilled ink,
and the funny thing about ink is that it comes in many different colors,
one color for each emotion,
and when I write,
emotions explode inside me and when I cannot take it anymore,
I go wild and knock over my bottle and spill the ink.
And it is not just one single drop of ink that is spilled,
Oh no - the whole bottle is knocked over and the whole page is drenched in my passions,
in my rage, in my sorrow, in my happiness, and in shame,
and even some escape and dribble onto the carpet,
leaving a hideous stain,
and after that, my breathing relaxes and I am free,
I am free because the pain I feel is translated onto a lifeless object,
and I can rest easy knowing that a paper will understand me but never have to feel the pain I feel,
Because bottled in emotions are not worth hiding,
They will tear you in two,
They are not your friends,
but with paper,
no matter how much ink is spilled,
it will always **** it up and dry,
Writing is my release so I do not explode from the inside.
I do not care who hears me.
As long as paper hears my cries with its non judgemental ear,
I will be fine - just fine.
After all, it is just spilled ink.

Your words begin to mean nothing to me,
You continue to lie under your breath.
Had me convinced that you were different,
Yet here I am, with a broken trust.

My heart torn out from the center of my chest,
Ripped into a million pieces.
You promised me over and over
That you would change for the better.

But I soon came to realize
That you're no different than the first time we met.
Each event replayed itself,
And each time you betrayed me.

Again I am standing here in this empty hole,
Listening to the echoes of your promises fade away.
I really thought you would change for me,
I really believed that you cared for me.

Oh, how wrong I was
To put my trust in the likes of you.
The pain I am feeling now
Is the pain I'll forever retain.

Over and over again,
I am left with nothing.
No matter what I do,
I always get the blunt end of the stick.

Normally I would say I'm to blame,
But sadly I do not deserve this claim.
My eyes have reopened
To never again let you gain my trust.

In the world we live in now
Has very little, if any,
Able bodies that I can trust,
Is it so that only I can earn this trust?

I don't believe I'll ever truly understand the meaning of trust.
I won't live by this word,
For its meaning is far too easily broken,
And very difficult to fix.

No longer will I allow trust to govern my life,
No longer will I allow your love in my life.
I stand here alone,
With a broken trust.

My last words to whom it may concern,
My trust in you was a privilege.
You continued to break the very string
That held my trust for you.

In the end,
You betrayed me with more than I can say,
Left me
With a broken trust and a broken heart.

I hope you never reach the day
where you are lost for words
because they are tangled up in agony
i hope you never reach the point
where your innocence of the world is robbed
i hope you choose your friends and
lovers wisely so that you never have
to discover what it feels like to see
those who you believed would take
a bullet for you, dance behind
the trigger.

You are trapped in a cage…
No one sees it … not even you…
You don’t know what it’s made of…
You don’t know where it came from…
But you feel it… it’s all around you…
It is full of strength
That it forbids you to move freely…
It separates you from your wisdom
And it strangles your thoughts…
You are robbed
But you don’t know what was taken…
You are in a place
But you don’t know where you’re heading…
You don’t even know how you got there…
Or who brought you there…
You know you’ve been through a lot
But your memories are distorted…
It is seizing you little by little…
You can’t stay but you can’t even go…
You are trapped, but no one sees it…
Not even you.

She took a deep breath
She counted to three
A picture in her head
Of who they wanted her to be

The wanted her to be normal,
Happy and kind
They never thought,
That this girl would be blind

Not blind by the meaning
But blind in the heart
Blinded by darkness
Blinded by dark

She walks around lifeless
Her heart beating but dead
A walking corpse
She is lost inside her head

Things have no meaning
At least not anymore
She was not how she was,
How she was once before,

She is one of the living
But one of the dead
A part of her is missing
She hangs on by a thread

She hung her head low
Took one final bow
She stepped off the edge
Saying one final vow

“I will not change who I am
As hard as any of you try
This is me giving up
This is one last goodbye.”

Life seems to lose its complexity and mystery in the early morning
Some things just become so clear in the haziness of 3 am
When the stars are all settled in
Spinning around like a kaleidoscope over my head.

Every sound seems too quiet for one moment
As if the world is falling asleep with me
It’s reuniting all the insomniacs of the world
Who get to witness the chilling stillness of the morning

There’s not a sound
Not a footstep in the hallway,
Not a car driving past my street,
Not even the crickets are out tonight
Its just the soothing hum of the fan,
And the moths dancing around the bulbs of the porch lights

Its like the earth stops turning
To pause and recollect,
To say goodbye to yet another day
And to finally rest.

There’s something so heavenly about this kind of sanity,
Something only few get to see
And I suddenly realise
The more you spend in silence,
The more miracles you see.

I think if I had a choice of death, it would be
Self-medicated drowning
You take a few pills
As you sit there and watch
The water that will soon become a part of you
Move slowly back and forth
As if it’s a welcoming wave
You walk into the water that usually feels cold,
Instead its pines and needles
Your spine becomes numb
You find yourself paralysed
The water fills up your lungs
It doesn’t hurt with the medication
The hallucination
Then your eyes hit the back of your head,
Your heart stops beating to the sound,
Of the lugubrious life you’ve been living
Now you’re left floating
Staring at the same sky
You once looked up to
When you were first born
When you had so much potential
When someone loved you for your good qualities,
And not for what your flaws say about you.
The hazy moon
Turns from yellow to red
A body dead
Without bloodshed
Body parallel water to sky
Like you’re prior soul, you have died.

I can’t express my torment
I cannot get across
How I think and what goes through
My mind and that part of me I’ve lost
A single dying ember, cries out to be set free
But the winds of madness that prevail will never let that be
Thoughts and words in circles
Always come out the same
I try to hide myself from this but it’s a thing I can’t contain
Amazing insecurity
I confront this everyday
I beg for it to leave me but it will not go away
I want to be something different,
Without the craziness inside,
Cause it’s been built up and fed and
Now it’s something I can’t hide
Everyday I struggle
Every thought I fear
For its starts with just one little thing and becomes a flood of tears.

An educational prison
we the prisoners
and them the guards
no freedom to sleep
or speak
or react to some sense of enlightenment
from reading stories
that shine in glory
from others hand
i demand freedom
and all the classes agree
to flee from their prison
no mind is set
to take in knowledge
that will evaporate
through our breath
as we hate
the gut-trenching moments
of complete and utter boredom
shall i close one eye at-least
and let half of me
enjoy the painless dark
as my other dents
with frustrated sensory hormones
all eyes are baggy
all faces grow wrinkles
as fatigue finishes and settles
into dried up energy bodies
i am not compelled
as my feet swell
with numbness
from stationary preoccupation
as my patience
dries out like a river
during a drought
i doubt
that the hour
will pass fast
when it took me only
five minutes
to write the words you read.

My eyes
fill with tears
and i
can't bear the wind
that blows
and the happiness that flows
within my semi-torn heart
the crack is molded
by joy
as if it is a surgeon
with a needle and string
that brings
the separated walls back together
peace at last
from all the torture
from seemingly incurable thoughts
that postured
within my innocent mind
torture
from unsure emotion
make me feel devotional
to something that could destroy my very being
fleeting
now and finally free.

Hear me
as my silence curses thee
fear me
as the non-existent sword shields me
be near me
as an invisible force tries to repel
the hell
of life's uncertainties
and mysteries
the wishes within me
bleed, as non can be satisfied
as they hide
and can't open wide
to release my thoughts
please me
unseen jewels be near me
see me
as distracted eyes are averted
need me
even when all seems fine
that line
that draws my thoughts
in frozen time
when no sound waves
shall reach an ear
slow motion
in course of fear
for the unknown notion
behind those ears that can't hear
and those eyes
blind in sight
and naive
to a clear definition
that shows the transition
of my thoughts.

The complete silence
brings justice to thought
no complicating words
no verbs
involving nonsense
or progress
in verbal analysis of physics
turning pages
and moving fingers
are the only things to hear,
within the classes closed door
but the subtle chirps
distract me slightly
as i fade into nature's bliss
then drift into the wonderful silence
that bring me peace
from conflicting opinion
i'll enjoy what i can
until the bell finally rings
and the choruses
come back to life
from the mouths
of different beings.

My mind occupied
by nature's bliss
the birds song put my mind at ease
as i start to dream
then fade into a world of peace
the calm wind cools me
as i stay away
from the rays
of the bright sun
the leaves move
reminding me
of a lake or sea
as the sound is similar to the calm
morning breeze
what a good day
to stay calm and relaxed
the lake's waves
fill my ears with a subtle bliss
calmness corners me
as i forget
about the war with my eyes
and my worries now set aside.

what am i doing?
what do i appear to be doing
is there a purpose
is there a reason for it all?

i sit here on a chair wondering
what am i pondering
in the future to come
as i go numb

i'm being forced into something
something to me derailing
why do i have to make a decision
on what i don't wish upon.

isn't it my right to speak
can't i feel weak
when i want to
or do what i want to

this force to be reckoned with
this force that seems to be a myth
what is it, destiny?
or the end of me?

life is so strange
nothing stays the same
everything changes
but who to blame

life is like a game
where you have to lose
before you can gain
to win you have to face the fearful rain

in life...they always say
don't use your heart
only use your brain

in life there is love
but the more is hate
no one decides
they all hesitate
and who knows the fate

the closest people you need go away
when you need them the most
you find them lost

day after day
days go by
people are born and others die

year after year
no one understands
nothing is clear
nothing in our hearts except fear

today you walk and talk
tomorrow you lay in your grave
and nothing it gave
the money that you save
and no use of your gold
when it won't be sold

you have to be strong
stop doing the wrong
and never lie
be ready for your last goodbye.

This mind of mine seems to be completely different
my thoughts have a different direction.
a wave of people moves north-wards,
while i stay put or go east, west or south
i wonder
am i the only one who takes an hour to think the possibilities, the outcomes
past,present and future
do people really care or mind themselves in the process
I've seen things, heard things, things that bring unjust pleasure
torturing young minds into a criminal's treasure.
one argument ten people
nine agree the last doesn't
i am different
not to be measured by cruelty or some sense of fashion
a passion that's contagious
making minds oblivious
to the possibilities  from each action
think, isn't there more meaning to oneself
or are we unoriginal
following trends
pretend to be someone we are not
my thoughts say fun and humility
the ever green that will soon die and brown
and they will frown
upon their big-headed justice
my mind is different
un-understandable
to both myself and others,
from a close range and far distance