The hill I will die on,
Is that most battlefields aren’t worth dying on.
Some people see a mob,
And grab their pitchforks and their torches,
Without even understanding,
What they’re fighting for.
Perhaps they love the bloodshed,
Perhaps they love the gore,
Perhaps they feel righteous indignation,
And are adamant to settle the score.
It could be some primal need to fight,
Or some could be sure that they’re right.
Either way, I don’t see the point,
I understand that sometimes a war is just,
Most times, it feels like a bust.
A waste of money,
A waste of time,
A waste of precious human lives.
All for what? Some measly land?
How greed corrupts the righteous hands.
So the hill I will die on,
Is that some battles aren’t worth fighting,
That they aren’t worth the pain.
The lives they ruin,
The families they break,
The friendships covered in contusions,
The human souls that are broken and bruised.
All for what?

Away from where you feel
Headed towards the destination
Only ever wanted the ending
Now you wish for the beginning

Everything is fine
Then one Sunday afternoon
The dam between your teeth
Starts to crack
And all my flaws
come pouring from your mouth

Jerky tongue
crusted lips
daylight scorched and deep
ridge of the brow splits
cracks
brain leaks slow
sickly air
coarse skull
something rots in me
puke
i have to puke
i hate her
brown gold hair
i hate the speck of will
that veers from clot

"Why do you treat me right?
talking late in the night
staring in your pretty eyes
you're so pretty, that I might
might pull up a fight
the stars above shine oh so bright
yet, I only see you far in sight
why?"

When my chest feels heavy, my heart surrounded by sorrow.
I wish to feel nothing, I don’t want to see tomorrow.
I search for the answer, wondering when this will end.
The question itself wonders, I choose death to be my lonely friend.

Now I am at my decision,  I recall every feeling.
Guilt covers my vision,  regret loses its meaning.
I don’t think I can come back, I don’t even try.
Who sees what this head has, when I was left alone to cry.

When you arrive at my ending, I will remain silent that day.
When you wonder what I was hiding, why I chose this pathway.
The mystery covers your mind, so does the heaviness of maybes.
I wish you to keep me in your good sight, that’s the last wish you can grant me.

Now I am not breathing, but I feel so relieved.
The sorrow is at its ending, I am stepping into my land of dreams.
It offers me numbness, what I was eagerly wanting.
I am immune to emotions ; finally, the heaviness has ended.

What is life?
Is it the love we're getting?
Or the hatred that is burning?
Is it the darkness or the beautiful light that shines bright?

We all live here in this illusion,
Fantasizing about the warmth that we all crave the most.
We fear to touch the fire of love,
But still let ourselves burn in it.
Here, all of us fight for our loved ones,
But we fail to protect them.

In the end, a mysterious darkness comes and steals all the light from our life.
I wonder what it is?
And I finally realize that it is the end of our struggle, but yet the beautiful life.
The life which we all yearned for.
Yes, that same life which was nothing but a complete misery.

It’s not one man running at the speed of light
But a group of them
none of them knowing the other

We know it’s not all men
But every woman has a story
How come?

You put 100 women in a room
97 will fall unlucky
HOW  come?

It’s not all men
But it’s some
And it is every women
When does it end?

It never ends
HOW Come?

Don’t dress provocatively they said
And yet even your not
It still happens
They ignore the no’s and the pleas
To continue for their gain
HOW COME!

so the fight continues

It’s not easy to move on,
from the last 12 years.
It’s not easy to erase them,
the memories you imprinted on me.

I know you’re a better man now,
but does that make up for everything?

I can’t forget the nights
I was sobbing in my room,
all alone, with no one to turn to.
I can’t forget the sound of your voice,
as it echoed through my room—
so loud, I put my hands over my ears,
yet I still heard it, loud and true.

I can’t forget the sound of broken dishes,
as you threw them across the room.
The sound of my favorite mirror shattering,
as you punched through it,
and turned your hand—and my heart—
red and blue.

I can’t forget the late-night hospital visits,
the stitches, the injections,
the crying and screaming—
all because you wanted that **** high,
the one you got from your bottles,
the one you wanted so much more than me.

I say that I have forgiven you,
although in my heart, that’s far from the truth.
I don’t know if I’ll ever even be able to,
not after you made my best years
so nightmarish,
that I shudder when I think of them.
I shudder when I think of you.
I wonder if you shudder too.