Raindrops keep falling, falling, falling—
like fists on the skin, like words that sting,
like echoes of war we never meant to sing.
But we do. Again and again.

Like it's all we know.
We are born with fire, right?
Hearts pounding, souls burning,
raw, real, reaching for something—
but somehow, we forget.

We learn to wound before we learn to heal.
We learn to take before we learn to give.
We learn that power means stepping on necks,
not lifting up hands.

And it cycles, cycles, cycles.
One person bleeds, another turns cold.
One get's broken, another breaks more.
We think we've built a world,
but really, we've built a cage.

More, we chant. More, more, more.
More money. More fame. More things.
But does more ever mean enough?
Or does it just mean less of us?

Less love. Less truth. Less seeing—
because we are to busy chasing illusions, to look in each other's eyes.
And maybe, just maybe.
The answer isn't bigger, or louder, or richer.

Maybe the answer is softer.
Maybe it's choosing to hold instead of hit.
Maybe it's breaking the cycle—
before it breaks us all.

Raindrops keep falling, falling, falling.
But we don't have to drown.

The person you hate
You love them but dislike all their ways
The person you hate
You need distance, but feels boxed up, contained
The person you hate
“Exposes you” and makes you feel all ashamed
The person you hate
Your trying your best to keep from going insane
The person you hate
Everyone’s telling you, you have all their traits
The person you hate
Surrender to Jesus, get on your knees and pray
The person you hate  
I know you’re in a storm now, just wait for better days.

The ocean feels vast and mysterious, doesn't it?
The sunset paints the sky in golden light.
The silence after a storm feels peaceful,
As the stars seem so distant tonight.

The world continues to turn,
The clouds drift lazily by,
The waves keep crashing on the shore,
As the moon looks lonely in the sky.

The flowers bloom in vibrant colors, don't they?
The mountains stand so tall and strong.
The world feels quiet in the nighttime,
As the wind whispers its gentle song.

The stars twinkle high above me,
The wind sings a melody,
And in the stillness of the night,
The world just keeps moving, endlessly.

Drowned out by divas
It was comfort that left us unprepared for this
This being the circuital embibement of chores and books
A choice to unentangle the moth from the web
Leaves one with typical but still misunderstood disturbances
Dad is a peadophile
We had ***
And now they're naming me a newt
A wet creature, suited especially to specific environments
A sham executed from the musical tenemants is one thing
But a crammed into trailer park is just a shame.
what makes a butterfly float, when everyone else is drowning?
The eyeish eckelecktic rom capacity can be blown away
And the attitudes of specs can thwart their own terrain
But if a pen draws blood, there's not room left for anything
So tell me the joke, esplanade yourself beyond my reach
Coke yourself up, give a scream, patent this work as your own, cherish the tub thumping
Be a cherub though rather than an angel, excrete malignantly and door slam the foreign light.
But someone must decide if the light is foreign.

When it was just a dream,
   I sonder away into restless thoughts,
Capturing the essence of you,
   Too soon to vanish within time,
Care for me like you do,
   A crave of love from the unknown,
Yet somehow you felt right,
As we wondered into the distance,
   Chantering merrily about our lives,
Your face a blur haze yet so vivid,
   Eyes shimmered a thousand words to be unspoken of,
The rich hue of strands that lay beneath your chin,
   Comfort washing over my heart,
Until the time of us is cut short,
   Ripped apart into nothingness,
Distraught in our distance,
   When all it was, was just a dream.

-ILYSMIT