Life's not a movie. There's no writer out there making sure that everything works out in the end. No matter how much something makes sense, it still may not happen. Life's not a movie.
But, every once in a while, the entropy that makes up our universe will slacken and the planets will align and for one glorious moment, life won't ****. It will so profoundly not **** that it will make the vast ocean of sewage that seems to make up every day life seem to shine with its very glory, for it's that every day chaos that leads to that moment.
Life's not a movie. It's not a tragedy or a romance or a comedy. Life's not a movie.
It's just life.

I've seen what horror can befall a man.
I stand atop this cliff, outward I gaze
and begin to recall how it began
as memory obscures my mind in haze.

I remember how, smiling, bright with joy,
you came to me with hope one fateful night.
You spoke a promise, one that would destroy
my fears and banish darkness from my sight.

A promise that, in hindsight, ****** my soul
for nothing holy comes without a price.
You gave of yourself, saved me, made me whole,
and now, without you, my heart fills with ice.

I've seen what horror can befall a man,
though, more important, is that here I stand.

It's time again to freeze in snow and ice,
or would be were it not fifty degrees,
and time for joy and cheer, to just be nice,
or try amidst the screaming shopping sprees.

This holiday we stand apart six feet,
to spread joyfulness rather than the plague,
and carols sing while we waltz down the street,
although the lyrics are a little vague.

But let us share my favorite holiday
and raise a glass of cheer to one and all.
For in the end arriving on the sleigh
are friends, both old and new, to deck the hall.

Through it all I am here to smile and say
may we all have a merry Christmas day.

I sit and stare into familiar face,
it tocks and ticks and talks into my ear.
The rhythm beating steps of futile race
and endless march fills throbbing heart with fear.

The gears turn, grinding out the moments' lives,
their silent echo screaming at each death.
Though each I save within my mind's archives,
still pages rot and fade away as breath.

Upon the hour chimes begin to ring,
a surge of strength returns to mind and heart.
Each tone a promise, future taking wing.
Let bygone days be gone. It's now I start.

Each second spent, each step on useless climb,
is my defiant fight on tides of time.

A square of paper, plain as ****** snow.
A fold, a crease, potential now began.
Life stands anew, now given room to grow,
as something forms beneath the will of man.

Wings skyward seek and, touching brightest blue,
take flight to traverse freedom’s great unknown.
Wherever life’s desires to roam hold true
a paper bird best shows how hope is sown.

Yet now my flock, one thousand strong, is made,            
so many scraps of paper now transformed,
I regret the theft of hope now grayed,            
forgotten as the lost potential stormed.

Now hope and freedom are but empty words
I lay before a flock of lifeless birds.

The mourning comes. You wait in waning hours.
A dark window. A stalking, silent end.
The light fades from his eyes as tears fill yours.
Eternity comes, claims a fallen friend.

Recalling lost moments of what had been,
the sparks of brightest love, the shades of hate
most deep, and all the lights that flash between
now come to haunt you. Crushing weight of fate.

The memories you clutch, in grip of death,
allow a smile to briefly crack your lips.
The moment swells, at last you catch your breath.
For paths trod hand in hand can dark eclipse.

Then it's passed. Dark returns and heart turns black.
Too late. He's gone. Nothing can bring him back.

Luigi lights the sign to start the day,
its neon glow, a tantalizing call.
Tables bedecked with red and white cliché,
anticipating rising dough to fall.

The scents bring promise of salivation.
The merest thought of the delicious treat
can free the mind of all obligation
and brings euphoria, however fleet.

Yet passion with no pause exposes threats,
neglecting needs of tongues and oven fire.
The choking smoke of realizations met
awakens one to act on what's required.

From ash comes Luigi, with shop destroyed,
presenting one last pie, which all enjoyed.

The sun rises high to the peak of the sky.
At last I sit and rest.
I mix my rye with citrus most dry
and clutch it to my breast.

I feel the cold burn my joints, so old,
and know that I’ve been blessed,
for to see what’s told of that glittering gold
has me quite possessed.

I raise my glass to the world en masse
and think of my last request.
I feel it pass, that moment alas,
and feel my soul arrest.

The sun sinks low, the day grows slow,
and begins, the edge, to crest.
The darkness does grow and I’ve nothing to show.
The day is not impressed.

As the end draws near I shiver with fear,
my fortitude stands suppressed.
I watch stars appear, their light so dear,
remembering dreams unexpressed.

The sun leaves the sky, my throat is so dry,
I’m wholly dispossessed.
With one final sigh and a tear in my eye,
I drink the last of the zest.

Outward I gazed upon what life I'd led
and saw just grey until horizon's edge.
Forever ****** I am, this road to tread,
yet never shall I yield, to trudge I pledge.

Then blackest shadow came and in a flash
began to form a shape both strange and plain.
A cat. One black as soot and soft as ash.
Now that a change had come, did hope remain?

She lept upon my lap, let out a purr,
and melted ice encasing broken soul.
Who knew such dark would tears of joy confer?
The end may come and yet at last I'm whole.

For beauty such as this is oh so frail,
for you I'll fight, and know I shall prevail.

Constructed under water's highest tide,
encroaching waves breaking upon the land,
its clearly ****** existence must subside.
Is it absurd, this fortress built of sand?

The waters rise, now lapping at its base,
erosion wiping meaning from the beach.
For once a thing is lost, without a trace
is purpose gone? Forever out of reach?

One final wall is swallowed by the sea.
Its image shall soon vanish from the mind.
Yet even as the grains of sand break free
what effort gave, its value, stays behind.

The works of man must always someday fade.
So in the doing, purpose must be made.

Oh, what blossoms from dark earth have I found?
Tis but a flower, growing in the sun.
Refracting light casts rainbows on the ground
and I ask what contains more beauty? None.
        
A stem of glass, as fragile as a heart,
from which its petals of pale crystal grow.
Seem they to smile, when tears of joy do start
within my eyes. True bliss, at last, I know.
        
Yet when, with longing, I extend my hand
the shadows loom and terror grips my soul.
Though peaceful my intent, no malice planned,
I know my touch must surely take its toll.
        
So here I stand, gazing down at the earth,
aware myself judged of little worth.

Within the black, ere sun's first breaking light,
one could conceive not life within the dark.
However, dawn's new brightest beams alight
upon a simple orb beyond remark.

Within this shell, so still and fragile, lives
the hope, the dream, that something might soon be.
And so within the worshipped light it gives
a longing soul extends a silent plea.

A panicked witness stands as cracks begin
and death's miasma creeps out from the crags
now formed from pure and smoothest ivory skin.
The soul, at sight of rotted infant, gags.

From tomb the corpse slips, dripping blood red wine,
for death is god's will, be it so divine.

Hope's loss I can't abide.
Keep it burning, ever bright.
Freedom claimed by suicide.

Even as darkness sweetly sighed
a lie of never ending plight.
Hope's loss I can't abide.

Though stripped of all but pride
surrender simply brings the night.
Freedom claimed by suicide.

For once your tears have dried
your dreams can come to right.
Hope's loss I can't abide.

Once sacrificed, your hands are tied
and none can bring back your light.
Freedom claimed by suicide.

So soldier on, lengthen stride.
Don't end it here, without a fight.
Hope's loss I can't abide.
Freedom claimed by suicide.

Preheat the oven, three hundred fifty.
Half cup butter that's melted, nutty brown.
Unsweetened chocolate added brashly
And allowed time to cool, the brew to crown.

Mix thorough, eggs and cup of sugar, two.
Temper well lest ova scramble, desired.
One cup of warm water to mixtured brew.
A few more steps ere decadence acquired.

Half three teaspoons soda, one quarter salt
Nine quarter cups flour, we now must sift.
A quarter cup of milk which we exalt.
One teaspoon vinegar provides the lift.

Bake half an hour, as scent your nostril fills.
And now we dine upon this food, devil's.

The void sings to me, and I know it to be my friend.
Someday we will embrace and stand forever in time,
but the light stands beside me until the bitter end.

I hear a voice within the black that sets my hair on end
"Come sweet child, do you not hear the clock's sweet chime?"
the void sings to me, and I know it to be my friend.

I long for that sweet touch, to fly upon that wind,
to forsake what I've been given and abandon the endless climb,
but the light stands beside me until the bitter end.

Its glow is ever present, though sometimes I pretend
to not know how it lifts me and to give in to the crime.
The void sings to me, and I know it to be my friend.

I must go on, I must not fade, I've so much left to spend.
I know that eventually I'll fall and doom summer's time,
but the light stands beside me until the bitter end.

As I rest my fingers, reviewing what I've penned,
my tears drop to stain the page as I read my final rhyme.
The void sings to me, and i know it to be my friend,
but the light stands beside me until the bitter end.

Without end, white extends beyond my sight.
Insidiously, dark begins to creep
and on horizon's edge my eyes alight
as Sol, my friend, doth slip into the deep.

This time no stars will come, no moon will shine,
this frigid night will never end. I know
that nameless horrors on my soul will dine
and leave my rotten corpse within the snow.

But still, onward towards the black I trudge
and forth I stare, though hope has passed from me.
Til death's embrace my will shall never budge,
I seek an end to endless snowy sea.

Undaunted, I'll not yield without a fight.
Without end, black extends beyond my sight.