Peace is something to die for
To dive for
Deep into uncomfortable waters where confrontations swim quickly with sharp teeth of yesteryears hurts, scars and disappointments
To wrestle against the currents of emotional immaturity and pride in the deep and dark abyss of normalcy.

Hiding hurt in plain sight, veiled, covered up like dirt under the carpet so that no one can see the harm that has been done but never reconciled.
The narcissist within you thinks you know the reason behind everything you see or feel, you’ve already figured out a story where you’re justified and as for me, you say I should let it go.
Life is too short to relive old pain.

Your peace is a false god.
Your peace has won no battles , your peace has no scars , your peace is nothing but a curtain that hides the ugliness of human condition that you are not emotionally mature enough to process.
Your peace is the absence of conflict.
My peace is its resolve.
To stitch the wound
To mend the heart
To soothe the soul
Again, to start
Anew, with you to know you deeply,
To love you deeply.
If life is so short, then why are we waiting
To start again

In my phantom we still exist
like a lonely dead ghost's mist
only appear on days that hurt
like a soul buried in dirt

If you walked the same steps as me,
maybe you would understand
my dragged feet that scrape the ground.
Oxygen is the breath of my life,
but also
long hours and low pay.
Problems that cannot be solved.
Distraction and dull entertainment.
Endlessly repetitively
while civilized society applaud.
“Live, live, live, live.”

Who's the psychopath,
Laughing his own cruel jokes?
It's all a crude game,
People's pain.
Oh, she looks OK,
Finally feeling some joy, Let me take that away,
Laugh when she's no more feeling OK.
She wonders what she did to deserve this.
Being the victim of you.
Now she's convinced she bought this on herself.
But little girl, you're innocent.
He feels he must hurt you.
Take the ground beneath your feet,
As soon as you start to heal, Shoots a detrimental thought,
That cuts.
She thinks she's his only,
We all think we're his favorite.
Just stay away from all of us.

the boy loved God so much
he had no love left for me
i poured my love into his overflowing soul
and ended up in a biblical proportion drought of my own making

“I like you.”—but not enough.
Not enough to stay, to care,
To see the way I withered,
Piece by piece, beneath your weight.

You took what you needed,
A hand to hold, a heart to lean on,
And I gave until I was nothing,
Until even my shadow felt thin.

Now there’s nothing left to take.
No warmth, no light, no fight.
I have run dry, drained hollow—
I hope I was enough to quench your thirst.

Interluding stolen kisses, as fleeting thoughts
traverse the corridors of time; often acting less
of our true selves in a desperate bid to win the
affection of those we hope to love - to be loved
But all bets are off, once the cards are laid bare
upon the table – as the choice to remain or depart
hinges on how long you are willing and able.

But if I'm falling, dreaming, waiting... in a caged
thought; plotting, scheming, believing that one's
love should also keep its word; can it truly hold
more weight than those three burdensome words?

And I hope they aren’t words more so said, less
expressed, or expressed in public, but having no
real private impression — just making up stories
for the press, as the headline reads you've been
pressing all my wrong buttons, I'm pressed.
"I love you," if that is your declaration, I guess –
as some loves are just for period of time; acting
as an interval. But also, the ones that are so hard
to forget. But I wouldn’t remember you as a lover,
but someone who was once a friend - just friends.

Once in a while I realize
I am really addicted to the pain
This addiction gives no prize
Only giving me more to strain
The red corner
Stares at me blankly
I should be dead at the shore
I’ll just have to use this shank
CPR on wounds will never go so great
Bleeding more will my nails have done
The one I love is not my mate
He's just there to have some fun