Where do you see the moonlight in the darkest of days and the worst of nights?
Where do you see the warm sun-rays among the storms and the terrible weather?

Perhaps you are mistaken,
and there never is any light when days are dark,
and there never are any sun-rays in the storm,
and you're conceptions are simply askew.

Are you delusional?
Perhaps I am insane,
for never looking at the moon at night,
during the cloudiest of days.
And I am so, so insane,
for never checking for any sun,
while I struggle to survive the winds of life.

Will I try and search for the moon's light,
in the wild forests and with the pitch-black glow,
and allow myself to get lost?
And will I try and search for the sunlight,
in the plains and amid the harsh hurricane,
and allow myself to get attacked?

e r r o r
i cannot function
the mistake is grave but I will not yeild
my life's a mess before I met her
but now it's messier
and even brighter
her mind's all over the place
my heart was once trapped in a cage
now we're here, let's cut to the chase
i can't make another error of waiting for too many days
i'll give her this raging beast,
so she keeps her mind in one place

Drunk with anger

were the eyes that blinked

his thirst and hunger

were his last mistake.

As he stood at the edge of the world--

his creation in his hand

made of glass

that slipped between the fingers of time.

And fell--

was his last artifact

of perfection.

My poem is me
Everything related to me

I saw myself like a paper
That lifeless without a letter

And my experience in my ballpen
When I mistaken
And then I'm going to erased
But then the mark is still there
Always reminds me my yesterday

So now I disided to used a pencil
So that my mistake
Will come to be lifeless and buried with a grave