He sang the echo of life
for fishes that blow bubbles
or whales that wave their tails
he breathes the salty air
and touch the sun's gentle kiss

she's stuck beneath the surface
empty, with pieces missing
she lives inside of him,
sailing placidly until she died

how tragic is her life,
wanting to be free
wanting to explore every inch of him
wanting to be whole again

she is just a sunken ship
whose remains will never be found

and he is the majestic sea
waiting for the next ship to come.

Understand this
Understand me
Understand something no one can see
Understand how I write
Understand that I'm without light
Understand the things I see
Understand that without that I'm not me
Understand who I am
Understand that I am me
And that there is no one else I would rather be

She went to the police.
Told them she was being abused.
They didn't believe her.
They thought she was another teenage fiend.
She went back.
Told them that she was *****.
They didn't believe her.
They thought she was another lying child.
She came again.
Told them she got beat up.
They didn't believe her.
They said if she comes again they will arrest her.
Her bestfriend came.
Told them that she was killed.
They didn't believe him.
He came back.
Told them that they aren't worth their lives.
They just laughed.
He left.
They got a call.
The person told them.
That they saw two bodies in the river.
The police went to check it out.
The bodies belonged to the girl and the boy.
The girl was killed.
The boy committed suicide.
Just to be with her.
The police were wrong.
They didn't believe their eyes.
They should start believing more.
**** April and it's fools.
The police were the fools in this story.
They started to believe more.
They saved lives of many after that.
But what I'm wondering is.
How come they didn't save those two kids.
That would've had lives to live.
If only they had believed.
In this retched April Fools story.

For all the dreamers who always knew
their whispered dreams can come true
to keep creating from thin air
even when facing complete despair
you toil through long hard days, and nights
never really giving up the need, or fight
for all the joy, and good that's light

You're touching lives inside your whispered dreams
listening for each word like a conscious stream
you wake to write what you've dreamed at night
grasping each shape to form it right
these whispered dreams they keep happening
like a familiar song you must sing.