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The mountains around reinvigorating life, the kaleidoscope of nature initiating a sheathed knife.

The beauty perplexing the greatest of mind, too often blind to the undefined and unrefined.

Taking a second to be in awe, the beauty of it all, the beauty of absolute organic law.
Chattering boxes are but the brain at work, with dreary thoughts doing the consistent work.

Laughable laughs come out as bold lies, as the true core we barely adore slowly dies.

With true words never being spoken, will the dark spell of the fraudulent counterfeits ever be broken?

The world is now digital and synthetic, and the almighty aesthetic is now genetic.
Torn, shattered, ripped to shreds.

So many unknown feelings fill the youth's head.

Fighting to get back where we once were, all the times we had before.

Torn, shattered, finally looking ahead.

The world is brighter as we look beyond the deathbed.

No worries or anxiety overwhelming the overfed.

Standing on our own, not an ounce of selfishness in the intent.

Dreaming through the night not the day, living in the present, content.

People jubilate to the sound of their own drum.

Finally, jamming out to our own strum.
The mistakes we make in life can make us crumble,
two bricks withering down can make the entire building tumble.

No matter how many times you create beauty the pessimist persists,
the mistakes always on the mind never out of the peripheral sights.

The realist looks at both sides and makes symphonies of insights.

Rise above your two mistakes and focus your lens on the beauty around.

This will lead to a building and mind on the most solid ground.
I've been on the low.

I've been taking my time,
I feel like I'm out of my mind,
It feels like my life could never be mine.

I don't wanna be alive
and let me tell you why.

All the **** speaking happening and presently occurring, as those same culprits pop up in my head as if I'm memorizing.

I've been praying for somebody to save me, but no one's heroic.
My life doesn't even matter, I know it, I know it...or at least I tell my myself that.

I'm hurting deep down but why can’t I show it?
I never had a place to call my own.
I never had a home, ain't nobody callin' my phone.

Where have you been? Where you at? What's on your mind?
They say every life precious but nobody cares about mine.

I've been on the low.
I've been taking my time.
I feel like I'm out of my mind.
It feels like my life ain't mine.
Who can relate?

-- Alex Wilson, 2017
Like a hockey team,
accomplishing the American dream.

Like Napoleon,
giving a speech to defeat the Mongolian.

Like a forgotten man's byname,
stumbling aimlessly when it's always been within his brain.

Like a relentless cricket's chirp,
always ready to exhibit pounding energy without limit.

Seize the day, today,
for yesterday cannot be replayed.
My mind can't comprehend the emotions inside,
a war fought each night I lose by a landslide.

The sheets of comfort have become an anxiety-ridden hell,
my mind unbearably racing like Van Gogh preparing a pastel.

Remedies have been given but I lay restless,
while I am helpless,
as I become anxious and continuously stress this.

Not the battles but the war I must calmly defeat,
as I finally become even on my sleep's balances.
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