There is a blue sky,
It's probably really colorless,
Insanely the lights reflect them,
On and off the surfaces of anything and everything,
It is a surreal place where even the weirdest creatures take form,
Some help, some destroy, some are like paperweights flying along the storm,
Silently sound just talks, it takes action without anyone knowing when,
It begins to make sense of every piece in place,
On top of a giant floor filled with invisible mazes,
Where some take, some give, some steal, some respect,
While some feel, some judge, some analyze, some expect,
Tuning into the frequency of inevitability,
While listening closely by the amplitudes of insanity and entropy,
Closely intertwined, it never ends the same way.

I always hear this word,
But they use it blindly,
As they project themselves downward,
In aspiral of chaos and confusion,
Leaving nothing but a meaningful weight,
That sends them to the feet of their hosts,
Like parasites that only know how to feed,
Sadly it is not in their capacity to realize,
That no harm and disgust is reflected onto their spirit,
But they continue to rot their own soul,
Excreting an immaterial gas,
Filled with toxins and emotions,
Feelings that make the insides of your stomach tumble,
Up and down then around the bounds,
Boundaries that they could never cross,
Because they are too young, maybe,
Too ignorant, slightly, remorsefully,
Going to schools and institutions,
Just to forget to ask, yourself that is,
And blissfully believing the facts that are handed down, like a vitamin pill,
A placebo that makes you smarter as it seems,
Beneath the soft exterior of a false personality,
Not fake, but inadequately you,
Not enough to be the own individual,
Living a lie handing down whatever the time dictates,
Never asking, why, because it is easy,
It is easy to fall away,
It is easy to hand out words,
That indefinitely hold meaning,
It is just a game of chance and luck,
In a head that refuses to ask,
It is so easy to make labels,
To project the self onto another who does not know,
To another that is seemingly ignorant,
But who is well aware,
But maybe decides to not give a care,
Never ceasing to wonder, why?
They are thousands of four letter words in the hundreds of languages,
And yet they choose to represent themselves in a word that they avert their ego.

This lies in a far enough world where our family found peace,
A realm where none other than the likes of us could only seek,
We played music to our hearts content,
We made love to the women that set our souls unkempt,

It was the good life or so it seemed,
Until the morning came and we played to spring,
Blooming into adults that is what it sings,
Doing our duties to keep the place at peace,
Killing ghosts and monsters well ain't that obscene,

As forever goes on it stopped with a niche and a nudge,
Like when sleep is done we wake up with the sun,
Whoops I am awake I think that's won,
A given, well this world is better than none.

Once was a man just a young boy,
He threw and he drew in the lost playgrounds,
Here is where people met,
They collected stories and secrets that they kept,
It was a vast field of majesty,
All who ever walked on its paths never ceased to live,
But only few have ever died,

Ceasing to exist while the heart still beats,
Breathing softly and surely until their presence turns to mist.
He,
He was one of the few,
He tried to save the tiny compassion left inside a rotten dew,
But alas he was in turn corrupted by the nectar of its dark and creepy hue.
He forgot what it meant,
What it took,
And what it is to be real,
Concrete and strong as steel,
Burning with a passionate spirit of Courage,

With succession he twisted and he toiled,
Ramming the hills of the land and crashing into it's mountains,
There he presumed a title that was astounding for the sound that it makes,
Fearless,
Fearless are we,
Fearless are they,
Fearless with no light,
To embrace the dark fully,
Here his spirit lies,
And his spirit decays,
Never to see a more shaded day,
Brimming with a look that shines more dull each way,

Each way he went it was just mere,
Utter,
Non-sense,
Never was a day that was bland as that,
Until that fateful eve,
Where only downfall would rise with the Sun,
Alongside the humming of the Moon,
Where the cosmic embodiment of Death soon became,

Paranoia juices flowed into place,
For whispers of deceit foul the mortality of the brain,
Corroding the mind until it took him away,
That was the night,
Where one of his deaths took stage,
That was where,
He should have been brave,
To face all in his mind,
And to follow the whispers that were holier than you or than I,
Because that was the end,
*Of the truth on his plane.

The more I feel,
The more I know,
The more I live,
As a mortal woe.

In present times the world is filled up,
Like a crazy cartoon with characters that build up,
A new hope for an inadequate concieved pup,
Be wary of the real undead whose hearts that still pump,
They live and breathe and talk in their pin ups,
Like the crimson they seek to fill up
Their stomachs of ego will still thump,
Unto the light of the unexpecting machine clump,
Running on programs of unending ****,
That is, what they think, for they forgot the time that they believe is up,
They too are humans that are machine dumps.

Inside this room, the halls fill with the illuminating darkness,
Where it shines a spotlight on the truths we often hide,
Fall and behold to its witchcraft in earnest prowess,
Cannot seem to unravel the long painted ties,

Maybe it chills to think of the possibility,
Remembering past and futures of an infinite,
Resolute but twisted that is a trap for *******,
To a world only in the imagination where it is not an illusory,

Be careful for naught it is fury of red that will be caught,
Although in this black hallway it would only seem like a pretty thought.