We'll send our monsters
to their graves,
ten feet under our capes,
and they will never know again
the meaning of 'escape'

When they think they've
pulled the last straw,
when they think they've
nailed us to a wall,
and they start to believe
we won't get up at all,
Think again.

We're heroines,
sober on our scars,
drunk on the belief that
we could pull off anything,

Heroines,
more than just a pulse and spine,
we carry our nerve,
we carry on just fine,
drunk on the belief that
we could pull off anything...

*Even living.

There's broken glass, something escaped
from the think-tank. Now that thought's
gone and gotten loose whatever will we do:

These inauspicious days alcohol only leads
to the darkest recesses of my mind anymore
for who knows how many suicide notes I wrote
whilst in the cold throes of this depressing war
on my own dear sanity; you tell me who the victor
really is.

"Yes, I know"
"I am a son of Hades,
The darkness is my birthright".

A daydream I'd been having
too often, my thoughts were
dreams of escaping
something terrible
but I would only entertain them.
Still I find myself asking
why I feel sick in the head so often?
Am I playing mind games?
I know it's not him [who I am]
yet I created this thing that is,
Isn't this thing part of me, is this/it's contrary, this counterintuitive.
Nothing is as it seems, the world scares me, and all I ever wanted was a human being to be gentle with. A significant Other? I can barely be with myself let alone any other. I have little power over my own prophecy nor my dreams as of yet. When I become lucid then I'll know that I can finally sleep unburdened.



Yes I know,
She told me so.
                        [Daphni]

You go I go
A firemans pledge
Grasping a buddies hand
Hanging over the ledge
Below them
An immense raging fire
There is no doubt
The situation is dire
Their bravery matched
By no other
Giving there life
For their brother
Every call
Fraught with danger
Battling fires
For a stranger
No matter the need
They stand ready to act
Heroes amongst us
That's a fact

right in the face of all the everyday reports
about disasters near and far

why do we not remember
the beauty of our world
the people whom we know
who are quite wonderful  and do great things
    day in day out without much clanging
    of media cymbals or rewards

the teenager who saves a drowning man
    thinks s/he just did the natural thing

the union woman in the protest march for better wages
    believes it’s simply natural to march

the officer leading a child that lost its way
    home to the parents

the neighbor noticing that her best friend next door
    has not picked up her morning paper

et cetera    et cetera

they are the unremembered heroes
of our daily lives

methinks our media are too obsessed
    with all the bad news in the world
and over that simply forget
    that it’s the good things which allow them to report
also the less enticing aspects of mankind

I seek and quest about the world
With hands both harsh and tender
To see the flag of fate unfurled
And all of it's cruel splendor
I seek the songs e're gone unsung
And singers not yet made
For these are echoes not yet rung
And heroes not yet bade
Pity not my humble task
Though humble it may be
For when it's found this 'I' and 'you'
Become a stronger 'we'

I know that heroes often die
but I can not feel their pain

like footsteps in the dark
I can not see a face
but I know you're walking there,
going someplace- I don't know where.

So is it so terribly strange,
to want to be at your side?
Through all of the days and through the nights
Leaving starlit steps behind.
Strange
how it is so hard
When stillness hurts the most


And when all you do is strain
to make the next sunrise

It's when I need you the most
'cause while your embers start to dim,
I see they still cast a holy light,
a warning, a welcome, my beacon in the night.


So is it so terribly strange,
to want to be at your side?
While fighting our way to the sunrise,
leaving scarlet steps behind.
yes it's strange,
how close that we are,
the distance is too far.

---

And I know that heroes often die
And I can not feel their pain

Only the absence of her voice,
and the echo of his cane.

You know, their silence fills the night
And I can not see a flame

So is it so terribly strange
to want to be by your side?

The empathy of a teacher who hears that a girl they belittled  has commuted suicide.
The sadness of a parent who will always wonder why.
The grief of her friends, they'll always pretend that she never seemed sad in the end.
I think we should all take a break, take a moment to state that suicide is not alright.
We live In a world where our minds are swirled with poisionus lies.
The ******* irony of if.
To be told to live your life a certain way, will only betray you.
Now politicians wearing suitable-ties discuss the times that schools should be open, that hours should be longer, so more children will suffer.
See, our system is ******, we have people in charge of us that couldn't give a **** if we are happy or sad.
They just want more money to add, to their pockets. The *******.
So, it goes on. And don't you forget that girls last song.
That she didn't want to live on, that she'd rather be gone, than stay in a world where her heroes were dead and her enemies were in power.