The memory of her face you held so dear, has gone away...
That gentle caress that calmed your fears, has gone away...

Heavy onslaught, clouds of cinder made a brume above.  
The stars in the sky that navigate frontiers, have gone away...

Bleach white canvas, metaphorically cleans the slate.
The painted past, the way your brush veers, have gone away...

Empty your pockets, take everything, give it your all.
The energy, desire, the charisma and cheers, have gone away...

Skyscrapers tall, city streets, flashy lights and cars.
Thousands of trees, tranquility, forests for years, have gone away...

Crippling car crash, broken soul, fingers frozen.
Their musical genius, symphony for the ears, have gone away...

I take nothing for granted, for life is far to short.
Countless walls of whom etched “I was here”, have gone away...

Every day I close my eyes and lightly run my fingers along my scars like braille on a page and every time it spells forgiveness.

"Some warriors taste defeat
before their journey
and are wiser because of it."

Esther L. Krenzin
Roguesong

Glaze my mind's last bough with gold,
For it is waning like a face that has been carved by sorrow,
Reside, perched upon it like a robin in the cold,
Whose bold colour can't help but alight hope for tomorrow.

Though I wander, listlessly within this bleak time,
And a daily load upon my back has been thieving my vigour,
There is a guile still inside that is rightfully mine,
And an idea, born of strength, that is infinitely bigger.

I have been built upon a strong foundation,
Your attempt at erosion can do nothing or little,
A dignified and discerning heart beats within,
I will tell you in earnest, it is neither breaking nor brittle.

My sky does still have dark clouds to be cleared,
But such beauty they endow to a distant position,
Suffering has not marred those colours revered,
Tragedy and triumph are allied in this, life's war of attrition.

Thinking about the future
makes me want to stay
in bed all day,
pretend that I don’t have to
get up and face the world,
yet the facts are drawn on
the ceiling of my bedroom.

When it's me, Who is there?
When it's me, Who will care?
It's a heavy load to bare
Especially when there's no one there

When you feel so down and hollow
It is a bitter pill to swallow
Overcome by masses of sorrow
Hoping the sun will come tomorrow

Lonely as the rising sun
Lonely as soon as the day begun
Feeling like theres nowhere to run
Not being able to have any fun

When it's me, who will be there?
When it's me, who will care?

When they are at your door
you already know, it already is
too big to comprehend

Heaven does not help me
I don't understand the higher purpose
of the war, I can only hope

for an outcome that makes sense
We are promised soft fruit
but we get stones to eat

Luck turns, coalitions switch
and we stay behind, without help
and love we keep plodding on

until an illness releases us
from the hard life
we never dreamed of