Music is the only thing
that makes sense anymore
its the only way
I can describe to you
the darkest parts of me
the texture of broken glass
encasing my heart
its the only way
you can feel the wires wrapped
around my lungs
feel the fire burning through my veins
lately
its been the only way
I can feel anything at all

My body is pale and chilled to the bone,
Everything I once was is long gone,
The light in my eyes have dulled slowly.

I no longer feel like the lively boy I once was,
Expressions of emotions seem so foreign.

Everything feels so hopeless,
I am unable to feel anything,
I am to far gone, to hollow inside to care.

I am a **** living inside the little boy they all once knew,
A criminal taking away all the things that allowed me to feel,
Now only the feeling of numb runs through my veins.

This is the outcome; all I have done to get better has just left me numb.

I can hear the drums still,
Understanding when to react and play the 'act',
Another day starting but I don't even notice.

I wonder sometimes if I'll every get better,
Maybe then everyone will return back to me?
But I silence those thoughts, and just through my sweater back on,
Its knitted with all the emotions I once was able to freely feel.

All there is left is this numb little boy,
In replace of the once brightest little star that was filled with such innocents.

Tiny wool mittens
Roughly sculpted my frame
From a flat land of snow
To a girl with no name
2 frosty green peas
Became blurry eyes
Then 10 little craisins
Made a smile so wide
My arms were uneven
One thin and one thick
Many shades of brown
But of the same stick
A mildewed blue hat was
Placed right on my head
Plus a scarf round my neck
That was cardinal red
All my wonderful features
Yet I don't think I'm real
'Cause I'm a girl with no name
Who can not seem to feel

Change has a strange way of happening all at.
Once.
There was a tale that believed to be never ending.
Built on pillars that boasted victory from the sands of time.
Only the stormss onslaught continued.
battering any life daring enough to venture out.
An incessant cycle of death.
One that only grew more ravenous with every meal.
Only to discover that the beast turned machine some time ago.
Just as the landscape did.
Leaving the inside as vacant as yesterday's tears.
And so the tale concluded.
Not with bang.
Or A crash.  
But a whisper.
No grand exit.
And no goodbye.
For its only a chapter in this ever growing novel of disappointment.
And with welcoming arms does the darkness insist.
The right choice was always so obvious.
And now perspective is all that's left.
So one must ask.
Has hells chains ever been removed.
Or has the minds eye been shut all this time..