We fight with all we have,
We lose the things that we never had.
Life is one submission after another,
We aim for one, but achieve the other.
We are all here standing,
Ready to take our number,
Completely unaware the we are all going under.
The will to fight is nothing but illusion,
The want to continue is born of confusion.
We all stand strong,
Yet in the end we fold.
We all talk a big talk,
But only our words are bold.
We can give up now,
And be forever content.
Or we can continue,
And be further broken and bent.

i am a moth drawn to the flame of despair
flutter through the air
no care
for body
just the burning of my soul
the yearning to know
what it feels like
to throw
everything away
in hopes
that dawn is close
closer then is possible
that time flows faster
when you're giving your all
for the promise of tomorrow
where tomorrow is
worlds away
from today
and its sorrows
and that sorrow will someday
be a sweet memory to borrow
from when the joy becomes
too much to bear

i am a moth in a world aflame
it looks like hell
but apparently
hell other people
and i'm sick of feeling
sinful for feeling
the sorrow of my fellow
tortured torturers

they tell me i'm too hollow
that riding the updraft is no good
and being tossed about the firestorm
is for fools
and i'm as flighty as a feather
in weather unsuitable
to be out in
yet i'm part of this world
and to lock away my soul sounds
abominable
so a throw to the wind
to see where it goes
it might singe
but it's worth it: the sorrow

i am a moth telling myself i'm not
and blaming it on outside sources
but being honest shows
my woes are my woes
and everybody knows
their own

and i just speculate and spectate; trying to know my fellow moths

By Arcassin Burnham

So I asked myself do I just move on,
Cause I always fail,
I think my soul dwells in hell to be strong,
Face is pale,

Like the other side of the polar arctic freezing at my feet


While I sink, been through enough of this now what do you
Think?
Does it amuse you for me to fall or make fun of my mental state like
I shouldn’t even be apart of this state,
Feeling ridiculed and misleaded,
Florida boy looking out for a way, so do I just move on,
Loving the little things in life to cope on,
Memories are just receipts and coupons,
Is this just something to fall upon.

I have more heart than you will ever have,
Swallow pride if you feel bad,
All I do is sit back and laugh while you laugh because nothing good will come out of this,
Nothing is better than doing good in your life rather than be a pessimist,
I Want nothing more to feel the peace in this,
You'd rule the world with an iron fist,
The golden child with a broken lisp,
Follow my lead if you get the jist,
So I asked myself do I just move on,
No excuse to fail,
So its time to move on,
move on.

I never really succeeded at anything;
not even suicide attempts,
not even anything memorable.
I've just been unfortunate enough to be unlucky at everything.

I don’t think of you that often
The eyes and faces all turned themselves towards me
Love no one
However, we may suffer
It’s funny, if you do, you start missing everybody
And I’m afraid
My failures: I had not forgotten them
To have survived so long
It happened, I stopped loving him.

A lonely tree
Broken, afraid, abused.
It craved comfort
And it craved love.

There, there, lonely tree,
For I will be your sun.
Shining on the ground
Helping your leaves grow.

A scared tree you are,
Filled with broken branches.
I will help you grow new ones,
Stronger than the old.

A healing tree you are,
Starting to grow new buds.
Still so fragile,
Your branches are all new.

A happy tree you are,
You dance in my rays
And they only shine for you
Grow happy tree, grow.

And a growing tree you are.
My rays bounce off you
So everyone sees your beauty
And gets shade from my rays.

A loving tree you are
Giving me purpose as the sun,
Giving you life
Is what makes me shine.

A busy tree you are,
Housing new life,
Wishing just once
For a cloud all day.

A happy sun I am.
Even when the clouds
Block my rays from you,
I know you are under there.

A cloudy sun I am.
Some days I peak through
And glimpse my happy tree,
Forgetting about my rays.

A sad sun I am.
Happy tree is there,
But happy tree, is busy tree,
And forgets about the sun.

A rainy sun I am.
Let the rain fall for days,
Only to hope my busy tree
Is growing.

Some think that a well thought out compliment
Is the best gift to give me.
What they don't know is that it stifles me,
Buries me under yet another layer of self doubt,
Wondering yet again, “What if I fail them?”
What if I'm just a fake, a fraud?
What if suddenly I wasn't so amazing, so perfect?
I love to be treasured,
But what happens when everyone
Finds out I'm just fool's gold?