Hold me as I silently sob
Rob me of my loneliness
Caress my empty flesh
Mesh your heart with mine
Dine on the small of my back
Lack in love as I also do
Glue our pain together
Forever we grow cold

******* coma

Cool
Calm
Collective,

Constantly
Caught
Consistence,

Common
Cold
Conflicted,

Colossal
Conduct
Clinic,

Climate
Cold
Conscription,

Condemned
Coma
Victim.

There was time my mind was yours,
But my heart is yours regardless,
The beats defined a music sheet and you played me like a harpist.

The score settled like rose petals in the essence of the tarnished
The stems remained like overtures,
And that's where it all started.

You blossomed in the minus key,
Your golden touch was midas
The treasure crept in semi clefts,
The breath I took was harnessed.

I played the jester to your beat
And bowed to you my highness.


You took my crown and held me down
The curtains closed in darkness.

1THE DOWN drop of the blackbird,
The wing catch of arrested flight,
The stop midway and then off: off for triangles, circles, loops of new hieroglyphs-
This is April's way: a woman:
"O yes, I'm here again and your heart
  knows I was coming."
  
2White pigeons rush at the sun,
A marathon of wing feats is on:
"Who most loves danger? Who most loves wings? Who somersaults for God's sake in the name of wing power in the sun and blue on an April Thursday."
So ten winged heads, ten winged feet, race their white forms over Elmhurst.
They go fast: once the ten together were a feather of foam bubble, a chrysanthemum whirl speaking to silver and azure.
  
3The child is on my shoulders.
In the prairie moonlight the child's legs hang over my shoulders.
She sits on my neck and I hear her calling me a good horse.
She slides down-and into the moon silver of a prairie stream
She throws a stone and laughs at the clug-clug.

We're so many yet so alone,
We live in a prison and call it a home..


Only if I could die, I could be well,
Since over 7 billion people on this planet,
And not even a single has time for me,
What The hell...

whenever I cry, I just have a blanket,
My friends - they're so busy,
I feel like John Cena -
Saying you can't see me..

Somebody has a life to make,
Somebody is busy in the life already made,
And somebody's somebody has problems from me..
That's what the world's population sounds to me!

I want to die,
I want to end my life,
Maybe a dagger, a bottle of pills,
A gun or just the kitchen knife..

Or else,
Maybe this world could be made a better place,
And this Earth can too have better grace...
Where all are the winners of the same race,
Where there's no religion, no gender and no race..

Where the news  isn't flooded with - murders, robberies, corruption, abduction and ****..

Where people love humanity, and equality,
Where people love animals and are against them the cruelty,
Where mother nature is treated with all the novelty..
And where people don't live for money..

And where there is no liquor, no smoking pipe,
All humans, living a peaceful life..

No army - fighting for borders,
No policemen killing innocent 'cause of orders,
No terrorists no racists,
And humanity has no horrors...

I know that world is kinda impossible to create,
But maybe this does happen,
If  a little  step  we  initiate..

We're so many yet so alone,
We live in a  prison and call it a home..

A girl of like eleven,
Seemed so fragile for the nature's cycle.
She wasn't yet as tall as she wanted to be,
Things like getting bigger ***** and better *****,
Took her to heaven.
And made her happy...

A girl of like eleven,
Seemed so young for the nature's cycle,
She wasn't yet told about any ****** cycle related thing,
Good touch and bad touch, for her had been everything..
And about anything more she knew nothing...


She kept weeping and repeating,
" I didn't get a wound, but its bleeding "
When truth infront of her did lay,
She wondered about the number of days it would stay!
And repeated the thing again,
" You serious, every month the same pain? "


Entire family cherished, and took care of the little princess with ' eggs'
And the girl still did lay confused, with if kids are born from the tummy,
What has it got to do with the hole in  legs?

"I can't do this anymore!" She screams slidding down the wall burying her head in her knees.

"Then stop fighting us" The voices in her head whisper.

"I can't give in!" She crys grabbing fist fulls of her hair.

"Give in no one will miss you." They tell her.

"No, please stop." She beggs.

"Your worthless"
"Ugly"
"A waste of space"
"A mistake"

She harshly wipes her tears away and stands up. She starts walking towards her closet.

"Fat"
"A nobody "
"Loser"

She opens the closet door and looks for the 'box'.

"**** yourself " the voices chant.

She grabs the box and opens the lid. She pulls out a gun and a heart breaking sob betrays her.

"Hurry before its to late"

Knock-knock

Someone knocks on her door as she loads the gun and points it at her head.

"Sweet heart dinners rea...NOO!" Her mother screams as she pulls the trigger.